Alpha Leonis
by LoveandPeppermints
Summary: Regulus Black and Lenna Albeney meet in their sixth year at Hogwarts, but when Regulus becomes a Death Eater and soon thereafter begins to realize the depth of that mistake, keeping up the façade becomes the only way to keep himself and his love safe.
1. CHAPTER 1: WANING

**ALPHA LEONIS  
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…

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

-I've written this—especially the beginning—very snapshot-like. I'm apologize if it seems impatient or jolts confusingly through time.

-About the title: Regulus was named after the brightest star in the constellation Leo positioned where the lion's heart would be.

-According to Rowling, Regulus became a Death Eater at 16 and died at 18. I'm going to push his becoming an Eater later a year; basically, if you notice timeline errors, they're purposeful.

-I've moved the year Hogwarts students learn to Apparate to seventh year in this story, again a purposeful edit, so don't bite my head off.

Enough from me—enjoy.

…

**CHAPTER 1:WANING  
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…

_She stares through my shadows_

_She sees something more_

_Believes there's a light in me_

_She is sure_

-'In Her Eyes', Josh Groban

…

"**I** don't like you…you know?" she whispered into the darkness.

Regulus smiled as he gently brushed the neck of her school sweater down and kissed the soft, salty-sweet skin where her neck became her shoulder. He felt her reach up to run a hand into his black hair and hold herself to him. He lowered his mouth to where her sweater had been unbuttoned to kiss the top of one of her breasts where it just began to swell. He listened to the light sound she made in the back of her throat.

"I know," he replied, grinning. "Oh—watch it—it's midnight." He pulled her close in his arms as the giant hand on the glass clock face beside them ticked to align itself with its counterpart, pointing at twelve. The bells gonged long and loud above them, vibrating the floor, walls, and their bodies. Lenna laughed softly, squinting at the noise, and laid her head on his shoulder. They stared out through the glass at the glowing white crescent moon.

She turned in his arms to face him, her face close as the gonging continued to resound. "I don't like your arrogance," she murmured and leaned in to kiss him slowly, sweetly. "I don't like your disdain for your schoolwork," she breathed into his mouth and kissed him again. "I don't like your friends…I don't like your family—'cept Sirius…I don't like your closed-mindedness…I don't like how you do what your parents tell you…I don't like the way you become another person just to please people—the wrong people—and I hate the way you talk about the Dark Lord." She said the last bit with a bit of a frustrated growl, and had pulled back to look at him instead of kissing him.

"That's quite the list," he murmured.

She nodded, her mouth drawn into a line. "It is. But here I am. What's keeping me here, do you think?"

"No idea."

"Must be something."

Regulus kissed her hair, then inhaled to smell her shampoo. "Well here's something," he said softly. He took her face in his hands, brushing her dark brown hair away gently with hands that knew her. He leaned in close and pressed his forehead to hers in the dimness as the moon bleached the world into shades of black and white. "I'm in love with you."

A soft smile found Lenna's eyes. "Mm," she whispered. "I suppose that must be it."

Regulus grinned and kissed her deeply. He pressed her against the cold glass of the enormous clock face and drank her in. She moaned lightly, softly, and that sound—etched so deeply into him—made his core tremble.

He didn't know how he could be so lucky as to have her. She brought out something within him—something more than anything he had discovered on his own. Regulus closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of her hair—a smell that comforted him—as he felt her warm breath on his skin. In the beginning of his sixth year she had just been some snooty Ravenclaw assigned to teach him Potions after hours as Severus worked alone in the back of the classroom. Slughorn had required him to take extra lessons in order to reach NEWT level. He had thoroughly resented that at the time, but he had come to look forward to those late night study sessions even more than Quidditch practice by the end…

That Lenna Albeney with her chocolate eyes and soft mouth would see something in him… She was sweet, clever, accepting of Muggle-borns, and he was the stonily-silent Slytherin Seeker with an inherited hatred of Mudbloods and blood-traitors and never any professor's favorite. He admired the power of the Dark Lord and thirsted to become one of his trusted few. She thought the Dark Lord evil and corruptive. And yet their bodies required one another's, their minds hungry to hear one another's whisper, their skin inched to feel each other's touch.

In the day she was always in his thoughts, and there was always a longing within him to be near her. For her eyes to meet his, to know what she's doing and thinking, and to touch her hand, her waist, her hair. To hear the words formed by her lips and feel the peace of home that washed over him when she was close. She was a half-blood. How his parents would be ashamed of him. They might even disown him as they had done to his brother Sirius. The thought frightened him... He was not brave like his brother and did not know where else he would go.

The night waned as they sat on the black bench beside the clock face wrapped in one another as they had on countless nights before. It always grew cold, and Regulus encased her in his arms to keep her from chill. He held her to him and pressed his mouth to her hair as he listened to her steady breathing in sleep. This school year was almost over, but it had been the best of his life. Lenna had somehow wormed down deep into him passed his haughty cold silence, his Slytherin crassness, his intimidating family status. And he knew himself to be in love.

As for the future…he was too afraid to look right now.

…

"We still have time," Lenna murmured, pressing herself to him, holding him hostage.

"One more minute and the train will leave without us, love," he replied, sighing.

Lenna shook her head in denial and pressed her forehead to his neck. "Don't leave," she whispered.

"Lenna…"

"We could just go. Let's just go."

"You know we can't. It's only the summer. I'll write to you every day. Twice a day. You'll get sick of me."

"I don't want anything to change," she whispered. Regulus pulled back to take up her face firmly between his hands.

"Lenna, look at me," he said in a low but fervent voice. "You see me? Do you? Nothing will change. It _can't_ change. _I_ can't change. I don't know to not love you." He kissed her forehead hard. "It'll be fine. Just a few months and then we can be back where we were."

"I love you," she murmured, closing her eyes.

"Merlin, as I love _you_," Regulus breathed before gathering her up into his arms a last time and kissing her deeply. Then he disentangled himself from her and with a last look, left the dark corner of the platform and boarded the Hogwarts Express. Lenna followed a few moments later, finding her friends in a different part of the train for the ride back home.

…


	2. CHAPTER 2: LETTERS

**CHAPTER 2: LETTERS  
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"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling in at night."

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

…

**L**enna,

I'd have you know it was rather cruel of you to have caused me to love you so bloody much. I miss you like an ache. A physical ache in every inch of me that colors my thoughts and shallows my breath. And now you've made me a poet apparently.

I love you. I wish we could Apparate so we could meet. I wish you were here so that I could whisper those words into your ear. What have you been doing? How is your family? My mother and father are…as usual. Though with Sirius gone they're focusing a lot on me which sometimes I like and other times makes me feel like screaming… They expect a lot. But I can do what they want of me.

I miss the way your eyes glint. I miss the swing of your hips when you walk. I miss making you laugh. I miss that little mole on your wrist. I miss seeing the shadows of your eyelashes on your cheekbones. I miss the way you roll your eyes, the way your skin smells, and the way you nibble on your index finger nail when you're thinking. I think it's safe to say I miss every inch of you.

Hope you're well. Hope you miss me just as much. Sorry I'm not that great of a letter-writer.

I love you,

Regulus

PS—Credlin isn't the friendliest so be careful. You may want to give him some treats so he doesn't get offended and nip you. Write back soon.

…

Regulus,

Cruel of me? You think you're the only one suffering. Typical. I miss you too just like that only worse.

Regulus, I know you must make your own decisions, but you do not have to follow the path your parents have planned for you. I don't understand why you could want it or how you could have convinced yourself that you want it. I'm sure you know of the Monroe Street murders just this week. Children lived in those homes, Regulus. Their names were Joey, Cecile, Kendra, Mathew, Edward, and baby named Brooke who hadn't even learned to talk before Death Eaters ended her innocent life. They're monsters. They would turn on one another just as easily as they killed those children. They're cowards and greedy for power the Dark Lord will never really give them. You know this. I know you know this. You're too good and too clever for them. Please keep your head.

My parents are fine. Mother is her usual ridiculous self—spending my father's money and not caring too much about anyone but herself—but I went out for a day with Dad just yesterday and had a great time. He's missed me. My brother is still in Ireland and enjoying himself and his work there—according to his last letter to me he's met a girl. You're lucky you have Kreacher as far as housework goes, though, let me tell you. My mother was never a very good housewife and it was expected that my father, being the magical one, would take care of menial things with a wave of his wand while she's not looking, but he's much too absentminded. Because of the underage law I'm doing a lot by hand as always.

I miss you too. More than you know. Your crooked smile, your strong arms anchoring me to the earth, your taste, kiss, and the way your dark eyes smolder when they look into mine. I wish I were there with you. If it were possible I would be in your room every night holding you.

Always yours,

Lenna

PS—He bit me anyway. Write back soon.

…

Lenna,

I think I can tell what I want and what I think is right for myself. Let me make my own decisions.

A lot has been happening, but I don't know how to put it all down. Most you wouldn't want to hear, anyway, and some of it I cannot tell you. I can see the judgment on your face even while writing this. I hate when you get like that.

My cousins and their husbands have been spending a lot of time at Grimmauld Place. Lucius and Rodolphus come to visit at times; Rodolphus is silent, and has a look to him that chills me, but Lucius is a gentleman. I think if you could listen to what he has to say about everything, you would understand better. He's a remarkable wizard. He has talked to me of my options before and what they all expect. I'm eager to prove myself. And soon I'll be able to. Soon I'll become a part of this. Soon I'll be able to learn under the most talented and powerful wizard there's very been. It's amazing this is happening in our lifetimes. Everything my parents have been talking about for so long!

Narcissa doesn't like to talk about what's happening and what her husband's doing. She's afraid of the danger, I think. She's not strong enough. But I can talk to Bella about the Dark Lord. She was always a loud, theatrical woman and has no qualms about letting the world know how she worships his name. And why not? He's got it right, Lenna. He knows what everyone needs. How to free us all. He has the strength and the vision to do it. They've told me that soon he will mark me as part of the movement. I'll become a solider for the cause, like Lucius.

I have to go; I'll write you again soon. I miss you every day, every hour, every minute. I dream of you. I wake up and feel like only half of myself his here because you're not in my arms.

I love you,

Regulus

…

Regulus,

I don't know what to say to you. I know how you were raised and what you're daily exposed to pushes you down a certain path, but you can be strong. For you. And for me. Don't give into the hatred and madness around you. You have a good heart, I'm certain of that. Such a heart would never survive in You-Know-Who's world. If you were to head down that path of murder, I would not be able to follow you. If it is what you truly want, then there's your answer, but just know that you would lose me. I could not love someone who murders with ignorant hatred in his heart. Get out, I beg you…

Always yours…

Lenna

…

What I choose to do with my life will not make me a different person. It's who I am. I think Mudbloods are a waste of wands. I think the Dark Lord is brilliant and right where everyone else is either wrong or too afraid to act. I will live up to the legacy of my family and my blood. I want to serve the Dark Lord. _I_ do. _I_ want it. It will be an honor. That is who I am, and if you never saw that, then you never really loved me, you just loved what you wanted to see in me. If you can't understand the life I have chosen and cannot follow me where I want my life to go, then we can no longer continue pretending we can be together.

Regulus

…

If that's what you have chosen. Goodbye, Regulus. I will always love the man you could have been.

Lenna

…


	3. CHAPTER 3: LIFE AFTER LOVE

**CHAPTER 3: LIFE AFTER LOVE  
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"I don't know why they call it heartbreak. It feels like every other part of my body is broken too."

-Missy Altijd

…

**T**ears trickled down her face as she tied her last letter to the leg of Regulus' owl and let him loose out into the night. She had let herself believe that Regulus was different. That he could never give in to the madness of his family or the evil of the Dark Lord… But he had chosen the life of a Death Eater over her.

…

They didn't know each other anymore. They rarely saw one another, and if they were ever so misfortunate as to be in the same general area, they didn't meet eyes. Ever. She was a clever Ravenclaw girl with her clever Ravenclaw friends and their reedy, sweater-clad boyfriends, though rather quieter then she used to be. He was a part of the bad boys of Slytherin, spending all his time with the darkest of Slytherin's young men, the next group graduating to become Death Eaters as Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Evan Rosier had before them.

Regulus with his stony aloofness and haughty good-looks seemed to be the de facto leader of the brutes. He always had a sharp, arrogant smirk on now, and his hair had grown until its shag brushed his shoulders. He had reached his full potential muscularly, though he had quit the Quidditch team. He seemed content; apple of his parent's eye and ruggedly-handsome heartthrob of the Slytherin House.

Lenna moved on as best she could. Her friends gave her happiness, as did the sun through the autumn branches and the accomplishment of perfecting a new spell. But her heart was not hers. It was strutting around the dungeons with the worst young men in the school. She didn't know if she would ever be able to completely move on. Perhaps it was always so with a first love…

Every night before her eyelids closed, her mind returned to one of the countless nights she had spent in his arms. She lingered on the smallest details of his face, his touch. She still remembered his taste and the feeling of his hair in her hand. She still preferred him to every young man she knew. She had dated a little, but never felt herself fall. They were always less—always less than the image of him still in her head.

Seeing him took her breath away still, but it was followed by the swooping opening of an empty chasm in her chest like her ribs were about to cave in on themselves. She wanted to save him. Even after he had proved he wasn't worth trying to save. She wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him. Scream at him. There were moments…sometimes whole hours…of weakness where she would've been a Death Eater's girlfriend. She wanted to fall to her knees before him and beg him. She hated herself for fancying there still might be something there on his side for her because he'd never taken up another girl. There were plenty of Slytherin bints that would be his at the drop of a word. But she knew she shouldn't fool herself. Young Death Eaters had little time for dating…and he didn't miss her. All he cared about now was the symbol on his arm and serving the most powerful dark wizard in history.

At the top of her class, Lenna took to Apparition with a flourish; it made sense to her in every way to want to be somewhere else. If she and Regulus had been able to do so over the summer, would it have saved their relationship? Would he have made the same choice? She had no idea what he was thinking anymore. Something about that was so wrong; it was like not having ears or a nose on her face. Things that had made her who she was were missing.

Outside of Hogwarts, the Dark Lord continued to consolidate his power over the wizarding world. Outside of the Aurors of the Ministry, only a select few brave witches and wizards organized against his power—the illusive underground Order of the Phoenix organized by the powerful wizard Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and a former professor. Lenna was unsure about what the outside world would hold when she got out into it. Her professors had remarked since her first year that her essays were proficiently written—she could perhaps write for _The Daily Prophet,_ or perhaps become an apprentice for a witch or wizard in the transfiguration or potions field. As a last resort she could always work a Muggle job like her father did. She'd been homeschooling herself during the summers and had a Muggle high school degree. Her father had attended a Muggle college after graduating from Hogwarts at seventeen, but Lenna was rather adverse to this. It could force her to meet new people, though.

"Come back to me, Len," Stephanie said with a smile as she waved her hand in front of Lenna's face. Lenna's eyes snapped back into focus and she shook her head.

"Sorry," she murmured. "Thinking."

"Aren't you always. I was just talking about how fine Ian Bradley's been looking lately. He almost got a Chaser position, you know, but Webber from last year kept his seat…" Lenna watched her eyes drift from the Ravenclaw to the Slytherin table and didn't dare follow her gaze. "And, God, I know he's a Slytherin and a bloody arrogant bastard, but Regulus Black is _so_ drop-dead. He's sitting on the table instead of the bench like he needs to call _more_ attention to himself…I mean, look at the way his hair drops in front of his face—look, Lenna," she said impatiently. "Seriously, even _you_ would have to admit—"

"Quit it, Steph, would you?" Lenna snapped back uncharacteristically. "He's a prick."

Stephanie pursed her lips, her fine eyebrows raised in surprise. "Geez. I'm just appreciating what I see, it's not like I'm gonna go try and jump his bones."

Lenna snickered, through her insides were puréeing themselves. "I dare you to try."

"Not worth my time," Steph replied, twirling her fork in her fingers and looking pleased that Lenna had lightened up. For the first time in a long time, Lenna risked a glance at the young man whose mark had scorched her. He was indeed sitting on the Slytherin table, his feet on the bench below, and talking casually with Barty Crouch Junior. Lenna let herself go under for a moment beneath the power of her soul's magnet. He was the most beautiful being ever created; a dark angel. He shamed the very devil. He was the god in the weight of her world.

"Not worth anyone's time," she muttered in agreement. "Nothing underneath. It's a pity."

…

Winter was long. Christmas came and went, taking its cheer with it so that all that was left was the cold and gray.

And Regulus was different.

The arrogant smirk had vanished. The swagger had turned into hunched shoulders and a guilty gait. He looked to be losing sleep and his laughing chats with his cronies had turned into shifty-eyed discussions in low voices—sometimes he looked upset and it looked like they were arguing with one another. Lenna wanted to feel some kind of satisfaction with his distress—satisfaction that he was now realizing what a stupid choice he had made and what the world and the life he had idolized was really like. But instead it tortured her. She suffered along with him. She wanted to steal him and run away. Run away from everything, from the world. More than anything she just wanted to comfort him. She desperately wanted to be the arms he would run to like he used to when he needed someone. She ached wanting it.

She didn't know him anymore, but it would take more strength than she owned to move on from him.

Lenna tossed in her bed, restless and sick of him. As a seventh-year she knew the rounds Filch liked to take and what time he would generally be in which parts of the castle, and she snuck in the night out of her dorm and through the dark passageways to where her memory and her heart called her.

…


	4. CHAPTER 4: BREAKDOWN

**CHAPTER 4: BREAKDOWN  
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"Men love because they are afraid of themselves, afraid of the loneliness that lives in them, and need someone in whom they can lose themselves as smoke loses itself in the sky."

-V.F. Calverton

…

**I**t was pitch black in the cold, silent castle clock tower, but the moon reflecting off the snow down below the glass gave the night a sheen, and lit the stone floor in front of the clock face like a beacon.

Lenna curled up on the old black ledge and placed a hand on the cold glass. Shivering slightly already, she performed a warming spell on the bench and her clothes. Then she rested her head on the wall behind her and grew still. Tears came and she didn't feel them falling as she stared out at the silent ground glowing softly with white light.

"Poor Lenna," came a cold voice that froze her every fiber with shock and familiarity.

She whipped her head around to stare into the dark corner of the tower room where his voice had issued and he taunted again, "Poor little bitch."

Her heart hammering, she refused to give into Regulus' cold goading and instead forced herself to look away from the darkness from which he stepped, dark, handsome, stony and furious. He could look and act as cold as he liked, but then _why was he here_? In their place? Shock had adrenalin pumping through her veins, heat flashing on her skin. Bloody hell. It had been months since they had spoken. But she literally had nothing to say to him. She wanted to do and say so much…but there was nothing.

Apparently _he_ had a lot to say, though, and a bitter tirade flooded forth as he paced in front of her like a caged animal.

"Sit there crying like the world stole your happiness from you when you made the fucking choice," he growled. "Sit there like your heart is broken when it never even really loved in the first place! You made me think you did—you made promises and acted the part—but you were only trying to make me out to be someone I wasn't. And when you realized that you dropped me like a hot fucking poker, didn't you, you selfish bitch? I n—" He stopped short of what he was going to say, then continued after a breath, "You're just so high and fucking mighty up there—you're too good for the rest of the world, aren't you, Lenna? God forbid you _stay_ with someone who's different from you."

He took a few breaths. Lenna sat and stared at him, tears she couldn't feel sliding down her cheeks. She felt too much to be able to think.

"It could've been…" He took another sharp breath and growled quickly as if hating to say the words. "I had it planned, Lenna, you and me." His tone was dark. "I knew you would have to get used to the other side of things, but I'd believed you when you said you loved me and I thought you'd stay no matter what. You don't have any idea what I've gone through these past months. You abandoned me during the hardest part of my life," he spat in an undertone. It seemed very difficult for him to admit this weakness and the words came only with effort. "I nee—" He stopped. "And the worst part of it is—I can't get rid of you!"

His hands clutched at his sweater and then away as if miming tearing something out of his body. "I can't get you out! I can't fucking feel anything! It's you—it's them—it's _him_…I don't know who I _am_ anymore! I needed you—to be there—to—to anchor me—to—" He cut off, his throat constricting with emotion and at the same time a desire to contain that emotion. He had moved toward her as he spoke and paced, and he suddenly dropped swiftly beside her and took up a fistful of her hair painfully. He shook her head slightly with it; she didn't feel the pain, she could only register his words, his face.

"I hate you!" he exclaimed furiously. His eyes traced the path of her tears down her cheeks shining in the moonlight. "God, I hate you!" He was drinking in her every feature with agony. His stiff body began to slump and weaken, defeated and defenseless. "I hate you," he whimpered, his touch no longer painful but tender…needy. He brushed back her hair with hands that knew her and held her face between them, his body close and surrendering. His shoulders shook as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I hate you," he sobbed. "Lenna, Lenna, I hate you."

Her arms were around him. He was shaking. Sobbing against her, into her hair. Silently she held him. He was a child. His body was limp and it shook. She held him close and tightly, cradling his head, wrapping her arms around his body, nuzzling her mouth into his hair.

"Hush," was the only word she knew, and she murmured it soft and soothingly. Her love's tears stained her clothes and wet her skin. Their bodies were together once more and the perfect bliss of it struck her numb. Screw good and screw bad—screw it all. This could not be given up. This was everything.

The night was deep and black when finally Regulus' tears dried. They lay intertwined on their ledge.

"I'm can't do this," he whispered from somewhere against her neck. He swallowed with effort "Nothing is what I thought it was. They lied to me. Everyone fucking lied and lied to me."

She nodded.

"Lenna," he mumbled, sounding like a vulnerable child made weak with confusion. "Do you love me?"

"What do you think, you stupid prick?" she replied smoothly.

"You left me."

"You did the leaving, if you'll remember. You chose the path on which I could not follow."

"You could have followed."

"Regulus." Her voice was hard.

He was quiet. "You knew so much more than me…why did you know…"

"Hush."

He buried her head in her neck. "I didn't know," he whispered.

"I could say a lot about how stupid you were, but it will do no good to you now."

"I can't get out now, Lenna." His voice was low and bleak. "He would find and kill me. There's no hiding from him. Nothing stops him for long. He gets into people's minds. And he's angry with me… Over winter break…there was a Muggle-born with his wife…he wanted me to torture the woman—he had the man tied up. They had a daughter…'bout four…he wanted me to use the Cruciatus on her mum…I tried but it didn't work because I kept thinking of—of what you would think of me… I saw myself in your eyes—in their eyes—and the little girl…it was her mum…her mum who'd fed her with a little plastic spoon…I couldn't do it," he choked. "I didn't know how to do it.

"And he knew that and he was angry and he did it instead. He tortured her till she screamed so fucking hard she popped blood vessels and blood ran from her nose and her mouth and her eyes and the little girl was screaming—and the father was screaming—and after he killed her, he killed the little girl quick and let the father deal with that for well on five minutes until he killed him too. And they laughed, and I was sick, and the world was spinning, and when I got home I puked, I puked until sunrise and it made my nose bleed and I still have nightmares…"

Tears were running from Lenna's eyes again. "Regulus…" She held him tightly. Even as tightly as she could wasn't enough.

"I'm so weak," he mumbled some time later.

Lenna stiffened and growled, "You are _not_ weak. You're decent. Don't let him convince you those two things are the same. There is more strength in doing what is right because it is _worth_ doing. Evil is worth nothing. Even those who fight for it know that. They're empty and filled with hate at themselves and therefore the rest of the world as well."

"I can be good and still be weak," he replied darkly. "If I were strong I would leave it all."

"They'd kill you," she whispered.

"Yes. And I'm afraid of that and am therefore a coward."

Lenna could not argue with that. To fight for what is right would lead to his death and he would not do so. That was cowardice.

"So am I. I fear your death likely more than you."

Regulus closed his eyes with pain. "My—my stupidity has ruined everything. Forever."

Lenna was silent. The weight pressed heavy on them. "I can't leave you again," she finally replied. "What's good or evil doesn't matter to me anymore. This is our life now. To keep you alive, we'll do whatever we must."

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut. "He may kill me anyway. I can't murder. If he doesn't already know that, he'll find it out soon."

"He has others who can kill. He'll find use for you, if not just for your usefulness, for the mere pleasure of giving you pain. He would get more from keeping you in a situation you despised but could not escape than from simply killing you. It's punishment."

"He will kill me at some point."

"The world turns and power changes hands, Regulus. It is not too much to hope that if you survive long enough, things will get better or a way to escape will present itself."

Regulus took a deep breath and said with ringing tenacity, "I _will_ keep _you_ from him. He cannot know of us or he would use you to punish or manipulate me. _He will not know_."

Lenna was quiet. "But how can you keep it from him if he sees through minds?"

"I will," he replied with force. It was the most confident thing she had ever heard him say. She didn't know how he could promise such a thing, but something in his voice made her trust him. She would have to trust him. She would not give him up even to preserve her own life.

…


	5. CHAPTER 5: DAYLIGHT

**CHAPTER 5: DAYLIGHT  
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"Love has no desire but to fulfill itself. To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving."

-Kahlil Gibran

…

"**C**an I see it?"

Regulus looked from gazing out the glass at the sunrise to down at her head on his chest, surprised to hear her voice as he had assumed she was still asleep. He stoked her hair with his hand, his arms around her. "See what?" he replied softly, a sudden swirl of emotion inside of him making his throat tight.

"The Mark." Her mouth was a grim line.

He sighed with a huff, but then nodded. Lenna gently pushed up the left sleeve of his black sweater and the shadowed skull with a serpent winding out of its mouth was uncovered. She gazed at it but didn't touch it as if afraid the Dark Lord would be able to feel her fingertips. Her lips thinned and she yanked his sleeve back down. She snuggled her head back down on Regulus' broad chest, her eyes tight. His arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head.

Lenna lifted herself up on her elbow and gazed at him in the brilliant orange sunlight. His dark eyes were soft and they glinted in the light, beautiful despite the shadows beneath them. His long, shaggy raven hair was messy and framed his pale, handsome face stunningly. Shaking her head slightly, a smile creeping to her lips, she leaned down and kissed his temple, his forehead, his cheeks, his shirted collarbone.

His eyes were closed when she lifted to look back down at him and when he opened them they were smoldering. "Lenna," he breathed. His eyes closed again. "Len."

She brushed her mouth, her face, along his jaw and nuzzled gently into his neck. "You're like oxygen," she murmured. His chest shook with a gentle chuckle.

"Yes, exactly," he replied. "The sun and the air and other things without a name that unknown parts inside me need."

Lenna lowered her body so that their chests pressed against one another's. She closed her eyes and felt his heartbeat like it was inside of her own. There were parts inside her as well which had only come back to her as of last night.

"Everything is that much better now," he said softly, breathing deeply and feeling more at peace than he had in months. "I'm strong again. I have a purpose again…"

"I wish you hadn't given up that purpose for a few months," she muttered darkly in reply.

There was a beat of silence and then his arms crushed her to his chest.

"Len, I'm so sorry. I… If it makes it any better I can guarantee I was hurting worse. I regret those choices more than any I've ever made or will ever make."

"Well we have to live with it now," she said after a few moments, her head buried someplace against his neck. "I forgive you. I can't _not_ forgive you—I love you too much."

"More than I deserve…"

"Yes," she chuckled. "Yes it is." She lifted herself up to smile down at him and he looked away, pain etched deeply onto his features.

"Hey," she said. "Stop it." She moved forward on top of him to press her forehead to his. "Something's keeping me here," she murmured, and a conversation a long time ago in this very spot echoed in both of their ears. "Must be something."

Regulus closed his eyes but a small smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "Here's something," he whispered. He opened his eyes and held her head tenderly between his hands, gazing into her eyes with an intensity that melted every inch of her. "I'm in love with you."

"Yeah," she replied. "That's it." And she moved forward and pressed her lips to his. A spark ignited and was a blazing fire within seconds. Regulus gathered her body up into his arms and pushed her up against the glass. Starving for each other, they kissed, blood boiling with passion and the aftereffect of being too long without. Lenna lowered her mouth to his shoulder and kissed and sucked the skin there making eager sighs. Regulus held her possessively; his hands on her hips, around her back, under her thighs, and cupping her neck. He ached for her and hungrily took her mouth with his and kissed her deeply, making her very bones melt and tremble.

After a few minutes of pressing her slim body against the glass, he lowered her down on the ledge on his hands and knees atop her, his strong arms around her back. Lenna reached up her hands to run roughly through his shaggy hair, then wrapped her legs around his lower back and pulled with them to bring him close. An unexpected soft, short cry escaped her when she felt his erection through his pants pressing right between her thighs. Heat flashed there and built upon itself. Surprised with the sensation, she looked up at him to see a guilty expression on his face.

"Sorry," he said quickly.

"I…"

"Not the time, I know," he murmured and kissed her neck which made the words on her tongue trickle away. _But what if it is_? she had been about to breathe. _What if I want it_? Regulus was kissing her like a man out at sea for years would kiss the land. He couldn't get enough. She felt his heart pounding in his chest hard and fast. He flicked his tongue out below her ear and she jerked and moaned sharply with sensation. A roughish grin flashed across his handsome face.

"Huh," he mused, grinning, and then sucked gently on her earlobe. Her body wasn't her own anymore as she moaned deeply and fisted his hair in her hand tightly. "_Oh_."

Regulus grinned again, enjoying himself.

"Two can play at that game, love," she whispered and boldly reached down to stroke her fingers down him through his pants. Regulus stiffened and inhaled sharply in surprise. Then a low groan rumbled from his chest and he leaned in to press his forehead against hers.

"Bloody hell," he breathed, his breath hot on her skin.

"I know."

"But not here and now," he said gently. "There will be time for it—a better time and place."

The awakened animal inside her disagreed, but Lenna nodded. "Yes."

Regulus kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheek. "God, I've missed you."

"Missed you more."

"Wrong! Wrong wrong wrong," Regulus growled playfully, grinning, and effortlessly gathered her up and flipped their positions, placing her on top of him as he lay on his back. She could still feel his erection padded by both of their pants against her lower belly but tried to ignore it.

She raised herself up, her hands on the ledge on either sides of his head and stared down at him. A lock of her hair swung down in front of a chocolate brown eye and Regulus brushed it away, his eyes soft and adoring. He took up one of her wrists gently and kissed the inside of it; she closed her eyes with pleasure.

"How did I even go a day without you?" he wondered in a whisper, kissing her wrist like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

"I don't know," she grumbled, "but I didn't like it."

"Never again," he replied softly, letting her wrist go and putting his hands on her hips possessively.

"No promises," Lenna murmured, looking away from him.

He caressed her face with his hands and she turned her head to kiss his palm. He brought her head down against his chest to hold her close.

"Lenna," he breathed again. It was a sigh of contentment; of finally having what one needs.

"It's you and me now, Reg," she murmured. "You and me."

"I don't even feel like there's a you and a me anymore," Regulus replied. "Not separate. But Lenna…I'm sorry for…for what will be. I've given you no choice. It's fine for me to ruin my own life but to take your happiness from you as well…"

"It can't be taken back," she replied firmly. "I'm sorry too, but it's what we have ahead of us now. And as for my happiness, I cannot be happy without you. Even a ruined life—even a ruined life cut short—if spent with you is enough for me. It's what I want. What I need."

He was silent and so she looked up at him. He was looking out the glass, tears running slowly down his cheeks. Lenna moved up to kiss them gently away.

"Don't cry, my love," she murmured softly.

Words did not come to him, but she understood. His tears stopped and he held her close as the morning faded into daylight.

…


	6. CHAPTER 6: TO A FAULT

**CHAPTER 6: TO A FAULT  
><strong>

…

"A coward turns away but a brave man's choice is danger."

-Euripides

…

**S**he was alive again. Her blood ran warm with the passion she hid from everyone but its object. She would catch his eye across the Hall and her heart would rise into her throat and she would hardly be able to keep from beaming. In the nights they conjured pillows and blankets to soften the wide ledge and fell asleep in one another's arms sharing whispers. It had been weeks since they had come together again and the nights and days had blurred together.

The moonlight reflected off the snow-covered ground far below and lit the dead of night just enough for her to gaze at his sleeping face as he lay on his side beside her. She pulled the heavy blanket up to her chin and then draped his half gently over his shoulders.

"I love you," she mouthed and stroked his cheek with her fingertips tenderly. His chest rose and fell evenly and his long, messy hair had fallen across his face. She ran a light hand over his shoulder, down his side, and rested it on his waist. There could not be a more beautiful man in all the world. She snuggled against him and he woke slightly and mumble-sighed something incoherent. Lenna giggled and that woke him a bit more.

"Wham? Len?" he slurred sleepily.

Lena giggled again and tilted her head back to look up at him. She reached a hand up to caress his face gently.

Regulus made a sleepy groan and rolled so that he was half onto her, a heavy, protective arm slug across her middle. "Wamphum," he sighed.

Lenna pressed her lips together and shook with a silent laugh. "Wamphum to you, too, mate," she replied quietly, grinning. She turned to her other side to look out through the glass at the moon and be the little spoon in his arms. He woke again when she moved and slipped an arm around her, bringing her body tight against his, his legs tucked behind hers. He yawned, propping his arm up on his elbow and resting his head in his hand as he stoked her hair.

"I could spend my whole life on this ledge with you and be the happiest man alive," he whispered.

"You'd have to pee," she teased.

Regulus chuckled. She nuzzled her cheek against his arm beneath her head.

"When we graduate," Regulus murmured slowly, kissing her shoulder, "you're going to take up that job the _Prophet_ offered?"

Lenna nodded. She'd applied for a job writing for _The Daily Prophet_ and with recommendations from her professors and some writing samples sent in, they'd reserved a place for her beginning with a small column toward the back focusing on business, but she knew with some effort she could make her way to the front and actual news reporting—or possibly human interest if she preferred it.

"It has a very good beginning salary and I'll be able to afford an apartment on Dewey like I wanted," she said.

He nodded. "I don't know how things will play out or where he'll even be having me live. But I will play the part and see you whenever it's possible."

Lenna nodded. "I know." She took a deep breath, knowing the time ahead of them would be difficult. "You're very brave, Regulus."

She felt him shaking his head behind her. "A brave man would not allow himself to be an aid of evil as I do."

"Sometimes even continuing—even to live—is an act of courage and strength," she replied. "I think bravery is only fear stepping forward to face its outcome. Just fear that has said its prayers."

Regulus was quiet. He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder again. "You're pretty wise, y'know that, kid?"

Lenna smiled. "Not really."

"Yeah really." He rested his head in the crook of her neck from behind. After a minute she felt his breath against her ear deepen and even out. She smiled and turned in his arms, waking him up again. He smiled sleepily and his head went back down on the pillow, his dark lashes closing again. Lenna curled up with her head on his chest and allowed sleep to claim her as well.

…

"No one can recognize us in these parkas, trust me," Regulus said, taking up her hand again as they walked toward Hogsmeade and the snow swirled around and about them.

Lenna had to agree despite her caution. She couldn't even identify the genders of the other faraway parkas on the track much less their identity. She squeezed Regulus' gloved hand in hers tightly and he glanced sideways at her; she could just make out his smirk through the snow coming down. He tugged on her hand as he suddenly veered off the track and into the tall magnificent pines along the snow-covered path.

"What're you—?"

"Shh," he hushed before his mouth was upon hers. The heat of his lips and his breath was a stimulating contrast to the cold of their cheeks and the air between them. They kissed with the hungry perfection that had come to define them.

"Regulus," she breathed, and his name on her lips made electricity crackle through his veins. He tightened his hold on her waist and crushed her against him. It took actual effort to force themselves apart enough to make it into Hogsmeade eventually. They went into shops slightly separated from one another as to not draw attention to themselves, and once they had all their items, Lenna followed Regulus' casual lead as he led them away from the town and into the surrounding woods again. Once far enough out of eyesight of the town, he swung her up into his arms and they fell into a snowdrift, laughing, their parcels forgotten in the snow. Lenna rolled out and onto her back, staring up at the layer of pine branches that protected them from the falling snow. They were far enough into the woods that the sounds from the town were muffled and it would almost be quiet had not Regulus come puffing as he rolled next to her, grinning.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asked, staring up as she was.

"I don't see anything up there you don't."

Regulus smirked and reached his arm over to hold her hand. She squeezed his hand and they were quiet, letting the world be still around them as they lay on their backs beside one another on a blanket of snow. They lay for quite a while in that way.

"The Dark Lord's power is going to tighten on the Ministry even further come spring. Big plans are under way," Regulus said. "Severus joined after he graduated—did I tell you?"

"That's so sad…"

"Well, after that falling out with Evans he got closer to all of us. Gave up playing the good guy to keep a friendship with her 'cause she wasn't having it anymore. And then she finally gave into Potter." He snorted. "The prick."

"You just don't like him because he was your rival in Quidditch," Lenna replied. "Yeah, he was a brat in his first four years or so, but he fell in love with Lily and it changed him. He's matured a great deal and that's why she's finally giving him a go. I feel bad for Severus, although he asked for it by hanging out with your lot so much." She gave him a look.

"I don't know what he was trying to do in the first place, being friends with Evans," Regulus said, shrugging. "He belongs with us. They sort into Slytherin for a reason. He's up to his ears in Dark Magic and he's wicked smart."

"You like him, don't you?"

"He never talked too much, but yeah, I do," Regulus replied. "I sort of feel like he has a similar problem with some things as I do. Sometimes. He likes his vengeance, Severus does. But most of the time his love of the Arts is less to do with inflicting suffering as it does with the pure science and skill of it. He finds it fascinating rather than as just a tool to use, you know? Somehow I feel like that's better."

"I guess it is better. He didn't know what he was getting into, either," she sighed sadly.

"Eh, I wouldn't say that. I mean, he's a year older than me and I think he understood." He looked over at her. "You like to think too well of people, you know."

"Maybe," she allowed. "I didn't know him that well." She knew him enough to know he had cared about Lily, though. And she was a Muggle born. So that was something different about him at the very least. Though he wasn't about to think him a saint. Severus was childish and spiteful. His own carelessness had cost him his friendship with Lily, and Regulus was right in saying he was enamored with the Dark Arts. That much had been obvious to anyone.

"The _Prophet_ has close ties with the Ministry," she said after a minute, reflecting upon what Regulus had said about Voldemort tightening his grip. "I may end up not wanting to work for them."

"It'll still need writers."

"I will _not_ be a part of him controlling the news," she growled in an undertone. "I'd work as a Muggle before I help him spread his hate propaganda."

"I know," Regulus replied, smiling wearily. "Nobel to a fault. We'll see how it plays out, and you can do whatever you like."

"Mm," she murmured, her tone different and prompting Regulus' eyebrows to rise. "Whatever I like, hm?"

Regulus just had time to smirk before she had rolled on top of him and taken his face between her hands to kiss him.

…


	7. CHAPTER 7: THE RAIN

**CHAPTER 7: THE RAIN  
><strong>

…

_She whispers to me, she whispers her secrets to me_

_And I feel her breath as it brushes my cheek_

_Her voice is the only sound that I hear_

_And if I am low, she pulls me off of my bed_

_And she makes me dance to the songs in her head_

_It's late, but please just sing it again_

_She's under my skin_

_She's under my skin_

-'Under My Skin', Peter Bradley Adams

…

"**I**'m never going to get this," Regulus growled, stirring a potion with more force than was necessary. It was a deep burgundy and was supposed to be a delicate red-orange. Exams were a few weeks away and outside the rain beat heavily against the floor-length windows in the unused classroom they were using to practice. Lenna got up from her stool to look at his progress.

"I think you used too much hyacinth," she said. "Here, counteract it with a teaspoon more of the venom."

"How am I supposed to know that counteracts it?" he asked. "How am I even supposed to know what I did wrong? I hate Potions."

"Well, because…" she trailed off, not knowing how to explain. "I don't know, they're just opposing ingredients. It comes with practice, love. You're great at nonverbal spells and not so great at Potions. We can't all be masters of everything."

"You're good at nonverbal too," he grumbled bad-naturedly.

"Practice," she said gently.

Regulus moodily poured some venom in the potion and the amount was too much so the color turned a sizzling, brilliant orange and he hissed with frustration. "Fucking thing." He turned away, his fists balled.

"Reg," Lenna said gently, "what's wrong?"

"The fucking potion's impossible!" he exclaimed, gesturing toward the sizzling cauldron.

"No," she replied, "what's _really_ wrong?"

He took a deep breath and remained turned away from her, his arms crossed tightly. "Don't wanna talk about it, Lenna."

"Don't want to or can't?"

"Can't," he answered in a low voice after a pause. Lenna walked to him and cupped his face in her hands.

"I understand that. That's all you have to say. But don't shut me out, Regulus. All I want to do is be here for you."

He let her wrap her arms around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder.

"It's been a long day," he sighed, putting a hand on her hair.

"Let's watch the rain," Lenna murmured, pulling away to take his hand and lead him to the windows.

"What?" He let her tow him over to the foggy windows, raindrops running down. She pressed a hand to the cold glass and it left a foggy print. Reaching out, she took both of his hands in hers. "Do something with me. Close your eyes and breathe in and out, focusing only on your breathing. Let it fill your mind. Concentrate on it. The movement of the air in and out and your chest up and down. Just breathe."

"Lenna—"

"Do it, Reg, or I'll hex you."

Regulus smirked, but closed his eyes and breathed with her. Time swam by as they stood beside the window, hands in one another's, the rain making a muffled pounding all around. When Regulus finally opened his eyes, Lenna's were already open and she smiled seeing the change in his features.

"Better?" she asked gently.

"Better," he breathed. "Blimey."

She moved forward and murmured in his ear, "Dance with me."

"Okay," he replied without even thinking about it. She moved smooth as water into his arms and he took her waist and she put an arm around his back and another around his neck and they stepped slowly around the room together. As the rain made soft, sweet music for them, he spun her and then dipped her slowly to her delight, and they turned, caught in each other's expression.

When the songs in their heads had finished, they conjured blankets to cover the wooden floor and laid in the center of the room, her head on his stomach, practicing nonverbal spells. Lenna conjured water and sprayed it up into the air above them and then froze the droplets in the air before they fell onto them. Regulus conjured a licking tail of fire that he directed around in the air with his wand and snapped up all the droplets with flickering hisses. Lenna transfigured the chandelier above them into a hanging chandelier-shaped branch filled with white birds on it that then took off and flew around the room twittering. Regulus had fun changing their colors silently one by one as they flew around, and when Lenna transfigured them back into lights, the colors remained, and they couldn't figure out how to change it back, so they left it rainbow.

"What're you trying to do?" Regulus asked, watching Lenna stare at the wooden chair in the far end of the room and pinch her lips together in concentration.

She sighed. "Change the chair into an animal. I can't quite do it nonverbally."

"What animal?" he asked.

Lenna smiled. "Just something sweet."

Regulus gazed intently at the chair and his eyes flickered as his wand twitched. With a whirl of brown, the chair transformed into a spotted fawn.

"That's exactly what I had been thinking!" Lenna exclaimed, sitting upright. The fawn jumped in surprise at the sound of her voice, backed against the wall, and fell into a sitting position.

"You scared it," Regulus chided. "The chair reminded me of a deer, so yeah."

"Me too," she laughed. "It's adorable. That's great transfiguration, Reg! Lookit him." She reached an arm out and cooed gently. "C'mere, little one. I'm sorry for frightening you."

The fawn stood up again and moved its head delicately toward her. He started forward inquiringly.

"He's a bold one," she said, smiling as he walked up and into her arms.

Regulus lay back down on the blanket and stretched his arms up above his head lazily. "Mhm."

Lenna snuggled back down with her head on Regulus' stomach and the fawn in her arms. "I love you," she murmured.

"You talkin' to me or the deer?" Regulus chuckled.

"The deer of course," she giggled, teasing him. "His name is Jack."

"Don't name 'im, Len, he's only a chair."

"Just ignore the mean boy, Jackiepoo, he's just bitter because I love you more than him," she cooed, rubbing noses with the fawn smilingly.

Regulus laughed. "Aw, I don't stand a chance. Dammit."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Black, but my heart now belongs to another," Lenna teased, cuddling the baby to her.

Regulus' grin faded. "Don't call me Mr. Black, Len," he said softly.

"Why?"

"He calls me that."

She didn't have to ask who 'he' was.

"Sorry," she murmured, casting her eyes downward.

He shrugged. "I'd have preferred 'Sugarloaf,' but Lucius had already taken it."

Lenna burst into laugher. "Regulus!" she exclaimed and the fawn backed away from her as she collapsed down onto Regulus' chest in a fit of laughter.

"'Sugarloaf'…" Lenna sniggered, wiping a tear from her eye. "Good lord." She sat up again, still giggling. "How 'bout 'Puddin'?" she suggested, trying for a straight expression.

"Ooh, that's a good one. I'll be sure to ask," he chuckled, pulling her back down against his chest. "I haven't seen you laugh that hard in a while, Len."

"Well that was funny as hell," she replied, grinning. "'I'd have preferred Sugarloaf'… You're amazing."

"I try."

"Don't go getting a bit head, though. You're still awful at Potions."

"Speaking of which," he replied, sitting up on his elbows. "We should probably get back to studying. I wonder if any instructions call for fawn parts…"

"Regulus!" she scolded, smacking him. He laughed as they got up to return to the cauldron.

…


	8. CHAPTER 8: FLIGHT

**CHAPTER 8: FLIGHT  
><strong>

…

"Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

-Emily Brontë, _Wuthering Heights_

…

"**I**t went by too fast," Regulus sighed before tossing a flat rock to skip four times across the smooth lake before going under with a splash. He'd flown them both to the other side of the lake from the school on his old broomstick so they could spend time outside in the beautiful weather in privacy.

"I know," Lenna replied softly. She snapped a quick photograph of him with her camera as he skipped another. She looked Regulus up and down, taking in the changes in him since she had first fallen in love with the boy. He was a tall and brawny seventeen-year old with the Black family's handsome and dignified looks. He'd recently cut his shaggy black hair shorter. He'd been getting paler since quitting Quidditch, but the change still suited him. He had restless demeanor now in his movements but at least he looked as if he'd been getting enough sleep—probably due to the fact that she slept in his arms every night. The buttery sun draped over his broad shoulders as he crossed his arms and looked broodingly out across the lake.

She took another photograph of him as he stared out across the lake without him even noticing.

"Did your last exams go alright?" she asked.

Regulus snorted. "Like I'm going to need good grades, Len."

She tucked her camera back into her bag and moved up onto her elbows to look at him. He was frowning. After a few moments he looked back at her and his expression eased.

"Sorry," he sighed, coming over and dropping onto the grass beside her. "I just want more time is all. More time away. More time with you."

Lenna lay back flat on her back again with her arms behind her head. "It's not like you're not going to see me anymore. Things will just be…more difficult."

Regulus nodded. He caressed her face with his hand gently and leaned over her to kiss her forehead. He kept his head there, pressing her forehead to hers intimately. "We'll make it through this, yeah?"

"Yes," Lenna replied firmly. "We will, Reg."

"Well, time's not gonna go any slower just 'cause I want it to," it said, getting up and taking her hand to pull her up. "We should enjoy it while it's here. How 'bout a ride?"

Lenna grinned. "Sounds good."

"It's better than sitting around and worrying, that's for sure," he added, then extended his hand out toward the broom lying in the grass a few feet away and commanded. "_Up_!"

His old but still-handsome black broomstick soared obediently from the grass and into his outstretched hand. He swung a leg over it and Lenna followed, brushing her robes out from under her, slinging her the strap of her bag over across her chest, and wrapping his arms securely around Regulus' waist.

"Won't we be seen?" she asked.

Regulus snorted. "They can try." And with a tightening of his hands around the broomstick, they left the ground in a blur. Lenna grinned as she watched the luscious green grass fall away from them and the castle ground expand below like painting creating itself. They flew against the sun and its heat undid the chill of the wind whipping against them. Regulus took them up high first, speeding around and then zoomed back down to nick the top leaves of the feisty Whomping Willow tree planted on the grounds a year before they had entered school. He skimmed them lazily over the lake until Lenna spotted the great dark shadow in the center marking the giant squid and smacked his back repeatedly, urging him to get them out of reach of its tentacles.

"The squid's docile, Len," Regulus laughed at her as they climbed away from the lake.

"I don't care," she replied, shuddering. "That shadow was freaky."

He laughed again, the wind carrying the carefree sound away with it as he sped them across the grounds toward the Quidditch pitch.

"Hold on!" he called.

"Why? What're you—" was all Lenna got out before he rolled them. "Aw, that wasn't so—" she began again before realizing what they were heading toward. "_Regulus_! Don't you _dare_—!"

Regulus only laughed as he rolled them again such that they were a blur as they barreled through the top goal post hoop—a close fit. His flying had to be precise or they would've hit their heads brutally.

"_Idiot_!" she yelled, punching him in the shoulder when the world leveled out again.

"Feel free to exit this ride any time," he replied cheekily. She punched him again.

He took them lazily over the tops of the Forbidden Forest pines, colored green and golden by the sun that was slowly making its decent in the western sky. Lenna brushed the toes of her shoes across the tips of trees with a grin and gasped with delight when they glimpsed the white of a unicorn getting a drink in a stream as they passed above.

She tightened her arms around him and put her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes in contentment as the gentle wind blew her hair back.

"Regulus?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He laughed. "Love you too, kitten."

She smiled into his shoulder. He only called her 'kitten' on rare occasions; when his mood was a mix of playful and tender. It was as if they'd left their stress behind them on the grass.

"Aw, check it out," he breathed, and she lifted her head to look. She smiled. An enormous brown eagle was flying with them, its wingspan almost as long as Lenna's arm-span.

"Wonder if he wants to race," Regulus said only half-seriously and increased their speed with a tightening of his grip. The eagle fell behind, but after a few moments had caught up to them again. Again, he increased their speed, and this time the eagle went even faster, pulling ahead. Regulus laughed under his breath. They went back and forth until they reached the southern edge of the forest and Regulus was behind when the regal bird soared up and away.

"You let him win."

"He has to work harder than I do," Regulus justified, curving back around and taking them back toward the distant castle. When they reached the magnificent stone spires, he circled them and sped past windows like he was doing a flyby. Lenna held on and let him have his fun. As the sun began to set and colored the western clouds with brilliant shades of orange and pink, he took them high over the grounds and they hung there in the sky with what seemed like the entire world below them.

She kissed the back of his neck gently and moved her arms up to wrap around under his shoulders. Regulus chuckled and suddenly scooted forward and tossed his right leg to the left side so he was sitting side-saddle.

"Careful," Lenna murmured, but Regulus' grip was firm and the broom didn't wobble overly much. He then tossed his left leg over again so that he was sitting facing her. He slipped his wand out of his robes and said a quick spell to anchor the broom in the sky without his help, and tucked his wand back. Lenna leaned forward, slid a hand up to his neck, and tilted his head gently to kiss him. His warm hands held her face possessively, then moved down to take hold of her waist and gently pull her onto his lap in order for them to be closer. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and they forgot they were hanging in the sky as they savored one another.

Lenna pulled from him to watch the sun slip below the horizon.

"Lenna," Regulus murmured, holding her. "Whatever happens—"

"Don't," she interrupted, turning to scowl at him. "Don't even start with that. We'll be fine. We have to be."

Regulus took a long breath and then nodded, swallowing whatever he'd been about to say.

…


	9. CHAPTER 9: COUSIN DEAREST

**CHAPTER 9: COUSIN DEAREST  
><strong>

…

"Every man sees in his relatives, and especially in his cousins, a series of grotesque caricatures of himself."

-H. L. Mencken

…

**T**he house he had grown up in, the house of his parents and their parent's parents, felt foreign to him. Cloaked in black and wearing newly-polished boots and a stony expression, Regulus sat in a leather armchair in front of the grand fireplace waiting for guests to arrive.

The pitter-patter of Kreacher's bony feet came down the hall and the elf entered through the door behind Regulus, putting the finishing touches on the table laid out with drinks for their guests.

"They won't be staying long, Kreacher," he said in a monotone.

"Kreacher will provide most graciously for our noble guests," the elf replied in his eager, froggy voice. Crystal clinked as he adjusted goblets.

_Noble_, Regulus snorted internally, staring moodily into the dying fire. _Bollocks_.

The elf came up beside him. "Does Master Regulus desire anything?"

"Master Regulus desires a lot of things, Kreacher," he sighed in reply. Before the elf could implore what he could do for his master, however, Regulus added, "None of which you can help me with."

"If Master Regulus would tell Kreacher, Kreacher would do everything he—"

"Hush, you're doing just fine," Regulus quieted him with. Kreacher's ears drooped.

"Master Regulus is unhappy," he said sadly, putting his hands onto Regulus' armchair. He would never dare to be so bold with Regulus' mother or father because they would never condescend to talk about their feelings with a house elf, but Regulus had often found solace in sharing things with Kreacher over the years. "Master is unhappy and Kreacher is unhappy."

Regulus closed his eyes and passed his hand across his forehead. The only two beings that really cared about him were Lenna and a house elf. _Brilliant. Bloody brilliant_. He looked up at the large, anxious eyes.

"My…responsibilities weight heavily upon me, Kreacher," he carefully replied.

"Master Regulus is strong and smart and very brave," Kreacher assured him proudly in response. Strong loyalty and affection were evident in his tone and Regulus was touched a bit by the elf's high esteem for him. "And he has been honored to be called upon to serve the Master of Masters who Kreacher's mistress so highly praises and who will rid this land of Mudbloods and regulate the Muggles to shape a better, safer world for all."

The words he reiterated were the words of Regulus' parents and of Lucius who came often to Grimmauld Place to talk politics, lecture Regulus upon the justifications of the battle the Dark Lord claims to be fighting, and of the reasons for their allegiance. They were a mantra that used to quicken Regulus' blood with righteousness, but it all now fell hollow and cold on his knowing ears. But the world could not grow wise to his changed views, however, or it would mean the end of him. One did not simply stop being a Death Eater. You couldn't run. Or hide. Once his, so you would always be. The only avenue Regulus could see was to live two lives, one with an emotional mask tougher than dragon hide, and one in which he could let that protection down. Whether he was strong enough to keep this up, and whether or not he could hold onto his sanity between the two lives, was up to fate.

He nodded expressionlessly. "I know. I am honored to serve my Lord. It is for these ends that I fight."

Kreacher smiled, satisfied, and patted his master's leg before leaving the room. Regulus closed his eyes after the elf was gone. Ever since joining, the realities of the life and people he had admired had revealed themselves to him. Instead of righteous, talented witches and wizards of noble blood united as family and striving for the good of all true Wizardkind, he had found selfish, ruthless (and in some cases, deranged) people bent solely on increasing their own power and more than willing to cut the throats of their fellow followers. Some like Lucius and Avery at least made an effort to keep up the allusion of white hats, whereas others like Bella and Mulciber made no pretense about being involved for any other reason but the enjoyment of inflicting pain and consolidating power for power's sake.

And there was a fine, fine line between good and evil, as Regulus had found. To survive, he had to steel his heart against caring about anyone but himself and his love. This meant if he had to torture or to facilitate others to torture or kill, he would do so to keep himself and Lenna safe. Did that make him any better than the people he despised? If he were honest with himself, no, it did not. He might not want to cause another's pain, but if he still did it, he was little different from one who enjoyed it. Lucius committed cold and vicious acts of violence and deception and yet must still treat his wife with a gentle hand. Being brave for Lenna was still ugly cowardice in its way. But it was his life now.

The sharp, echoing clack of authoritative high heels reached his ears from the hall, announcing the arrival of what could only be Bellatrix Lestrange. Regulus stood to receive her as she threw open the handsome mahogany door.

"Cousin Reggie," she crooned grinningly. "Just as ruggedly stony-faced as always." She came up and pinched his cheek mockingly. Regulus bore her taunt with disinterested indulgence.

"You never knock, Bella," he drawled.

She placed her hands on her hips and pinched her lips as she looked at him. "This is just as much my house as yours, you prat." She turned on her heel and began inspecting Kreacher's refreshments. "Besides, such courtesies are reserved for those one respects or fears, neither of which pertain to you."

"How complimentary," Regulus replied coldly.

Bella laughed shrilly, the laugh she gave whenever she wasn't actually amused but felt like making noise instead of replying like a civil person.

"Shall I be expecting the others along shortly?" he asked her.

"Oh, they'll be along," she replied with a careless wave of her hand and promptly began flicking every one of the crystal goblets with her long, sharp black fingernails one by one so they made an immensely irritating ringing. Kreacher Apparated into the room with a _crack_ and Bella whipped dramatically around to glare at him.

He stated, "Guests have arrived, Master."

"Escort them here," Regulus commanded, catching himself before he thanked the elf. It would be a blatant sign of weakness to show gratitude to lower creatures like elves, and he would not fall prey to Bellatrix of all people.

"Wait!" Bella cried at Kreacher, a wicked grin flashing to her pale face. Regulus remembered with an internal groan how she loved playing games with house elves. "Mistress Bella demands you fetch her a Spitting Death Newt, a giant's tongue, a pair of Severus Snape's underwear, and a—"

"Ignore Mrs. Lestrange's orders, Kreacher, and see to our guests now," Regulus commanded, interrupting Bella by raising his voice.

Bella was suddenly enraged, whipping her wand out like lighting and pointing it at her cousin's chest, all hint of play gone. "How _dare_ you override my orders, you little _fuck_?" she hissed. "Like you have more authority than _me_. _Me_!"

Regulus knew Bella's temper flares and bipolar moods well and stared back at her coolly without a flinch. Kreacher's fists were balled tightly and he said in a low voice, "Mistress Bella should _not_ point her wand at Master Regulus."

This oddly protective assertion distracted Bella from her anger and she turned her head to stare incredulously at the elf. Before she could say a word, however, Regulus ordered smoothly, "Master Regulus commands Kreacher to immediately see to his guests." With that phrasing, Kreacher had no choice but to be gone with a _crack_.

Bella's wand was still pointed at her cousin and her dark eyes flicked back to him like a cat returning to her original prey. She cocked her head slightly, which only enhanced the image. Regulus' lips twitched with a slight smile and, knowing how to diffuse her anger, remarked, "I perhaps could have let him try to steal Snape's underwear, though. I could've gone for some amusement…"

Bella snickered and replaced her wand back into her sleeve with a flicker of her thin fingers. "Tonight's _show_," she said dramatically, gesturing her hands as if on stage. "Elf Attempts to Undress Dodgy Death Eater."

Regulus chuckled and a moment later Kreacher appeared in the doorframe, leading in a group of cloaked people Regulus knew all too well.

…


	10. CHAPTER 10: ROUNDS

**CHAPTER 10: ROUNDS  
><strong>

…

"You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and exchange, put on a mask."

-Jim Morrison

…

**L**ucius Malfoy swept in, superiority soaked into every strand of platinum blonde hair on his head and his snake-headed cane clicking as he walked. He nodded graciously to Regulus.

"Well met, Mr. Black," he greeted.

Regulus nodded in reply. "A pleasure as always, Mr. Malfoy."

"Your parents aren't in this evening as I understand."

"You understand correctly. My mother is in Scotland and my father is away on work at present."

"Please extend my regards the next time you speak with them."

"Of course."

Lucius smiled—a smile Regulus had never seen reach his eyes—and then walked past to either greet Bellatrix or explore the refreshments. Regulus nodded in greeting again, this time at the aging Avery with his tall, stocky build and incredibly dirty boots. Kreacher had probably flinched leading him inside the house.

"Young Mr. Black," he growled gruffly in greeting, and then also walked off. Regulus greeted the rest of his guests as they stepped up, some helping themselves to refreshments before speaking to him. Crabbe, Dolohov, Goyle, Macnair, Mulciber, Rosier, Travers… They were well-known and secretly hated faces. He'd seen most of these people do hideous things, and how they could all gather and pretend that they were anything less than monsters was almost beyond belief. And he was one of them.

"Sniveling slithering simpering Severus!" sang Bella tauntingly as she skipped over to where Severus Snape was lurking in the corner of the room trying not to draw attention to himself and avoid exactly what Bella had begun. Poor bloke. Because of his half-blood status and inadequate social skills, he'd been ostracized among the Death Eaters from day one. Though Regulus was just as new as Severus, his family status and his well-bred manners had earned him automatic—albeit grudging—respect from most of the members. Severus, however, had no such leg up. And Bella thrived by taking advantage of the weak and unprotected. Regulus would've liked to help Severus, as they had been friendly in school and he held respect for the talented young man, but he knew not only was it useless but also social suicide to put himself on the line that way. It was survival of the cruelest here, and he would only incur Bella's wrath upon himself and the condescension of the rest if he were to show sympathy for Snape.

"You know, there's this marvelous invention called the _bath_, you greasy rag of a man," Bella was remarking. Snape was staring fixedly ahead, trying to control himself because everyone knew fighting back only further provoked Bella.

"Bella," Regulus said conversationally to try and distract her from her victim, "Will your husband be joining us?"

She turned and came back toward Regulus as she spoke. "No. He and Rabastan have work elsewhere." The way her lips twisted up as she said 'work' made it clear it was the Dark Lord's dirty work they were employed in. "But I believe I told you that before, you daft gargoyle." She sauntered over to the drinks and moved Barty Crouch Jr. from her way with her sharp nails clamping onto his ear and pulling. Barty ducked away making a noise of pain, and slunk over to Regulus who was still standing beside the armchair.

"Good to see you, Barty," Regulus greeted. Barty had been a friend—rather a follower—of his throughout school. Barty nodded, looking grateful for the friendly words. He was an interesting member—the son of a high-profile Ministry worker, Barty Crouch Senior. Of a very different mold from his father, he'd been sorted into Slytherin upon arriving at Hogwarts and it was not long before his cruel and selfish tendencies pointed him in the Dark Lord's direction. His membership was a highly-guarded secret, of course.

"You too," Barty replied. "Have you been keeping busy?"

"More or less. I've been doing the jobs he assigns to give me the opportunity to prove myself and my usefulness. It keeps me occupied."

Barty nodded, looking almost…wistful. "He hasn't given me the chance yet. I don't think he trusts me. It's understandable what with my father…" He trailed off, looking frustrated and bitter. "I wish he'd give me the chance to prove myself. This is the first time he's even allowed me to come on our usual rounds like this. They all say I'm still young, but I'm the same age as you," he griped. "You look older, though, that's the thing."

"And I know the less I say, the better," Regulus replied. "Something you have yet to learn."

Barty scowled; Regulus was referring to a meeting a few weeks prior in which Barty had made a spectacle of himself trying to help make plans and speak as if he were one of the older, experienced members.

"I just get into things sometimes," Barty grumbled. "I get excited."

"Yes. We all noticed."

Barty sighed and then snapped his fingers at Kreacher. "Elf," he commanded. "Fetch me a Firewhiskey."

Kreacher obediently did as he asked and Barty brooded as he sipped his drink while the others talked among themselves. Severus Snape slunk quietly over them and leaned against the chair next to Regulus.

"Severus," Regulus greeted formally. Snape nodded curtly in reply.

"How do you stand your relatives?" he muttered in an undertone. Regulus smiled slightly.

"I don't," was his answer. "I've learned to deal with them with many years' experience but generally work to avoid them."

"Alright, everyone," Avery growled loudly. The voices hushed. "It's time to go. We'll hit the usual spots for show and I have some special places where we've heard of some resistance gatherings. Also, the Dark Lord has a couple new places in mind as well. Everyone mask and follow Regulus."

_Follow Regulus_. How he'd like to lead them all off a cliff. This time, however, he was only in charge of leading them to a broom closet. He slipped the silver mask out of his robe and slid it into place. Masks on top of masks. Who was he beneath them?

When everyone had become one of many silver skull masks, Regulus walked out, leading the group to the back of Grimmauld Place where they kept a prestigious collection of broomsticks, some for Quidditch, some meant for racing, and some merely for show. A line of sleek black ones on the far wall were what this lot used for "rounds" as they called it. Regulus led them inside, illuminated the candles along the walls with a flick of his wand, and stood aside politely, waiting for everyone to choose a broom before he chose from what was left. Granted, they were all of superb quality and condition, so it was not that much of a sacrifice.

"All right," Avery growled, pulling his hood up around his head. Others did the same. "With me. Keep to the usual ranks. Macnair, Goyle, with me. Crouch, take the center. To the square in Fernwitch." He Apparated away with a _pop_. A resounding chorus of _pops _rang out as members followed.

Regulus looked at Barty's blank face and asked, "D'you know where that is?"

Barty shook his head. They were the last ones still in the room. Regulus grasped his arm and Apparated. He found himself in the dark square of Fernwitch village off to the right of the gathered group. He kept hold of the disgruntled Barty's arm and pulled him into the center of the ranks. He then moved back to the lower right outside.

"All present?" Avery inquired gruffly, looking behind him and scowling at Barty as if the boy had done something wrong.

"All here," Rosier replied.

"Keep your wands sheathed unless we come under attack," Avery instructed. "If so, do not hesitate to retaliate. Alright. Fly."

The group rose into the air—luckily Barty was keeping up—and began gaining steady speed as they followed Avery's point.

The flight was long. It was merely a tool to show off their power and make it seem as if there were more of them than there actually were and that we were everywhere and working constantly. It demonstrated their presence to their enemies and to their friends, inspiring fear in the former and giving encouragement to the latter. They flew above areas known to be harbors of their enemies, but luckily tonight none stepped out to attack. And they flew through dark towns friendly to their cause and received roars of appreciation from those in the streets and those who leaned out their windows.

Passing through nighttime London, they flew high above generally as to not panic the Muggles, but they lowered themselves in front of Ministry entrances where workers passed through constantly. The fear on their faces was empowering; the close formation made it feel as if they were one being, and as one being they could pick off any of these helpless workers they so wished. Some suits and ties dropped their briefcases and took off running, and others preformed safety enchantments hastily where they stood on the cobbled street. But the formation passed by as if passing through was not their intention at all but merely in-between where they came from and where they had to go. The relief on the faces of people who assumed they were not the victim tonight (although doubtlessly someone else was) was classically human.

Most of the members' favorite part of the night was flying through all-magic towns and terrifying the villagers by their mere presence. Parcels and coats were dropped as they scattered in fright in the group's wake. Mothers dashed back into homes making scenes of themselves with shouting and failing arms. After an initial flight-via-foot response, the villagers in the streets remembered they could Apparate and did so. Shouts, calls, and the frightened cries of children rose in the warm night air. Fathers slammed doors and gripped their wands tightly, gathering their wives and children. Some brave ones even rushed out of their homes, wands at the ready.

Bellatrix broke ranks as she often did to ride through the town terrorizing the people with her chilling cackle. The Eaters lost some of their discipline as jeers and harsh, cruel laughter rose from their ranks. Regulus clearly heard Barty's high-pitched cackle and Severus' shoulders were shaking with mirth though Regulus couldn't see his face because of his mask. He himself kept silent. These roles could so easily be reversed. He could be the unsuspecting man reaching for his wand as he yelled to Lenna to Apparate away. And the children were _children_, for Merlin's sake. He would never be as callous toward that as his fellows.

Before the villagers could organize themselves much more or call upon Aurors or the Order, Avery led them up and away on route back to Grimmauld Place. The night's work had been as easy as could've been hoped for, but Regulus' limbs ached, he was cold despite the night's warmth, and all he could think about was getting home and watching these people leave so that he could climb into bed with Lenna.

When they finally got back to Grimmauld Place (Apparating in front of it because through it could be Apparated out of, Grimmauld Place could not be Apparated into), Regulus led those of the party who did not wish to leave immediately back to the grand fireplace room in which they had gathered earlier. Kreacher was oddly absent; usually he would receive any enterers of the house. Regulus led his guests into the room and got rid of their broomsticks with a wave of his wand. Masks lowered and more of the Black family's quality beverages began to disappear. He of course had to stand around and be hospitable. After he'd shared a few words with those who wished to speak with him, he slipped out of the room and walked slowly down the hall, passing his hand across his forehead.

He rounded a corner and halted abruptly in profound surprise.

Lord Voldemort was walking toward him down the handsome hallway.

…


	11. CHAPTER 11: CLEAN AGAIN

**CHAPTER 11: CLEAN AGAIN  
><strong>

…

"Compassion is not weakness."

-Hubert H. Humphrey

…

**L**ord Voldemort's eyes almost seemed to glow in the dimness, his walk steady and in no rush, and his hands clasped behind his back. His black hair blended with the darkness of the hall and the white contours of his face were eerie…to someone who had been looking at silver masks all night as Regulus had, the Dark Lord's features resembled a skull. His skin and countenance seemed slightly blurred as if he were a ghost made corporeal somehow. He was cloaked in black with green velvet embellishments and Kreacher's ears could be seen sticking out behind his figure as the elf obediently followed this highest of masters.

"My Lord," Regulus breathed. He cast his eyes down. "I had not expected—"

"I see you assisted in this evening's diversion," Voldemort interrupted, a curt nod gesturing to Regulus' wind-blown hair as he reached his young servant.

"My apologies, my Lord," Regulus replied. "If I had known to expect you, I would never have allowed my appearance to be so disheveled."

Voldemort's lips twitched, pleased. "Your smooth tongue does you credit, Mr. Black."

"Thank you, my Lord," Regulus said humbly. "You grace our household with your visit. How may I serve you?"

"I have merely come for just that—a visit. I trust rounds went well?" He began walking slowly back down the hall in the direction Regulus had come from, and Regulus followed at his side.

"Flawlessly, my Lord."

"You are tired," he observed.

"I always have the energy to serve you, my Lord," Regulus answered.

Voldemort's lips twitched again. "Your elf has been showing me around the place—I had not quite seen all of it yet though I have been here often. It is a fine manor."

"Thank you, my Lord. Every stone is at your disposal."

Voldemort chuckled; a low, silky sound. "If the rest of my followers but had your composure, discipline and wit, Mr. Black, things would go much more smoothly," he observed. It was a high compliment and Regulus blinked twice. "I feel certain you will serve me well in the years to come."

Regulus was about to open the door for him to the fireplace room where most were still enjoying themselves, but Voldemort shook his head once and put a bony white hand to his lips in an odd, ancient gesture. "No no," he said in a low voice. "I need not deal with them all tonight and aid in drinking the rest of your father's good brandy." They continued down the hall. "I, like you, are anticipating today's end." He was looking ahead of him and speaking conversationally with his bony hands behind his back as if the two of them were old friends, but Regulus knew much better. The Dark Lord had a motive for everything he did. And right now he was singling Regulus out. Why?

"It is a weakening of our spirits and body, fatigue," the Dark Lord continued. "It marks a lack of strength and drive. Much the same lack of strength that those who would deny the righteousness of our cause suffer from." They had reached the grand front doors. Voldemort turned to look levelly at Regulus. "The strength that separates those who will go to any lengths to clear the path, and those too weak to do so."

Regulus was silent.

"I would hate to see weakness such as that in you, Mr. Black," Voldemort murmured. "You are so very promising."

"You shall not, my Lord," Regulus said in a low voice in reply.

Voldemort gave him a last indecipherable look and then was gone with a low whooshing _crack_.

Regulus closed his eyes and let his breath out with a loud gust. He walked to a wall and then leaned his back heavily against it.

"Lord Master is very regal," Kreacher breathed. "He is very powerful. Lord Master singles Master Regulus out. Lord Master honors Master Regulus. Lord Master honors the Black house, honors Kreacher to serve him…"

Regulus wasn't listening. He numbly shoved off the wall and walked back into the fireplace room. Some had left, and still others took leave after politely speaking briefly with Regulus a last time. Crabbe pocketed a few high-quality Firewhiskeys before Apparating out. Barty drained his whiskey, said goodbye to Regulus, and left as well. Regulus found himself alone with Severus Snape but for Kreacher who was now cleaning up. Able to be more comfortable in front of Severus who he'd gone to school with, Regulus dropped into an armchair with a groan.

Severus chuckled, loosening up as well now that the intimidating company had vacated. He came over to take another armchair. "That's about how I feel," he replied. "One has to be on ones toes with our lot."

Regulus nodded slowly.

"The flight was fun, though," Severus continued, almost to himself. "Did you see that one witch Apparate in such a state that she left her skirt and a shoe?" He sniggered.

"No, I missed that," Regulus replied.

Severus was quiet for a few moments, then asked in a different tone, "Do you still talk to Lenna Albeney sometimes?"

Though taken aback, Regulus didn't show a hint of it. He snorted softly and muttered, "What, that Ravenclaw who tutored me in Potions?"

Severus' lips thinned and his eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. "Regulus, I know you fancied her. You'd stare at her like someone had done a form-freezing jinx on your face."

"Well, you're one to talk," Regulus replied, rolling his eyes as if it was all old history. "You used to trot after Evans like she held the answers to all of life's questions."

Severus' features twisted as if in pain, but his words were smooth. "Albeney spoke to her often—they were friends in Potions. Do you know if she still talks to—er, Evans?" He was trying to sound casual, but his leaned-forward posture, clasped hands and intent eyes negated it completely. It looked to Regulus as if he wasn't the only one with a forbidden love. He was surprised Severus would trust him with such information.

"It's 'Potter' now, innit?" Regulus muttered, looking into the fire.

"Yes," Severus answered with another spasm of pain.

"Poor girl," Regulus chuckled. "Severus, I can't say I keep up contact with Albeney anymore. What we had was a long time ago and what with me being here and her probably off curing diseases in Africa or something, we're real different people now. But we parted ways on good terms. If you like, I can see if my owl can still find her and I'll ask about Lily."

"Thank you," Severus replied, his face lightening.

"You'd think there would be other ways than through me, though, Severus."

Severus looked away, frustration in his eyes. "She and—and Potter are well hidden. No one I could talk to knows anything and people that would know certainly won't tell _me_. She used to send letters sometimes, to say how she was doing and what's been going on in her life, but a letter hasn't come for a long time."

"And you're worried," Regulus finished softly.

Severus turned his head to glare at him as if just realizing how much trouble he could get in for informing someone of his heartache. But Regulus reached out and put his hand on Severus' shoulder.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, mate," he said gently. "They'd have you believe otherwise" —he tilted his head toward the door— "but don't believe it."

"What would you know?" Severus sneered. "The way you act, it seems like you've never felt anything strongly in your life."

"And believe me," Regulus replied in a low voice, withdrawing his hand, "I work hard to appear that way." He stood. "Now, no offense, but I'm about dead on my feet right now and will be going up to bed. You're welcome to spend the night here, or you can go—er, where exactly are you living nowadays, anyway?"

"Spinner's End," Severus replied, his expression flat. Regulus nodded.

"Alright, well, up to you. But I will say goodnight." He downed the rest of someone's glass of brandy that was sitting on the table beside his armchair and began walking toward the doorway. "Kreacher, you did well today," he said, pausing before leaving the doorframe.

"Thank you, Master Regulus," the elf exclaimed, beaming. "Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black and all its guests!"

"And Severus," Regulus continued, "it was good to talk to you. You're one of the few of us I can actually do so with, and I'll remember about that owl to Albeney. Have a goodnight."

Severus nodded in response and Regulus left the room. After a few steps he heard the _pop_ of Severus Apparating out of Grimmauld Place. Regulus Apparated up to his room, opened and closed a few drawers, and ran the sink water in the adjoining bathroom to give the usual pretense of going to bed in his own room, then he Apparated into the hall of Lenna's apartment complex, said the password spell that unlocked the doorway's enchantments, and unlocked the door with a flick of his wand.

He slipped off his shoes and shut the door quietly behind him; it glowed a soft purple for a moment as the enchantments reset. Knowing the apartment well by now, he deftly maneuvered through the darkness into her bedroom and by the light of the streetlamps shining inside through her window, he gazed at her sleeping form in bed. Rarely had he felt so tainted. He'd spoken to the Dark Lord tonight. How could he come here? How could he continue to bring himself and all the evil that came with him into her sanctuary?

He leaned against the wall beside the bed and slid silently down it until he was sitting on the floor. Her face was turned toward him and it was peaceful, flawless, innocent…beautiful. Regulus dropped his head into his hands and his body shook with heavy, harsh breathing.

"Come to bed, Regulus," came her gentle voice.

Regulus' head snapped up and he stared into her open eyes. His eyes felt bloodshot. He shook his head jerkily. "I'm dirty," he whispered.

"I will make you clean again," she whispered back and reached her arm out from under the covers, extending her hand toward him. A life line to a drowning man. Regulus swallowed and after a moment, reached out and put his hand in hers. He lifted himself on his shaky legs and climbed slowly into her warm bed.

Lenna took him in her arms and kissed away the memory of the fear on the villagers' faces, the hot prickle of his Mark, and the image of the Dark Lord's piercing eyes. She caressed his face and the last hard lines and pressure points of stress melted away under her hands. Her lips found his and his world righted itself and shook itself clean as the unmasked and unadulterated core of him resurfaced.

He had no energy to speak and drifted off soundly as she held him tenderly in the darkness, cleansing his dirty skin with her goodness.

…


	12. CHAPTER 12: PLANS

**CHAPTER 12: PLANS  
><strong>

…

"Every parting is a form of death and every reunion a type of heaven."

-Tryon Edwards

…

**R**egulus awoke to the smell of…pancakes.

And sausage.

He blinked groggily, comfortable in the bed he had come to associate with safe harbor. Pushing the covers aside, he slowly sat up, running a hand through his thick, unwashed hair. A smile crept to his lips as he heard Lenna's slippers shuffling about the kitchen and the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing. Regulus lifted himself out of bed and got out of yesterday's pants; the material had left pink crinkle marks on his skin where he'd slept on them. He also pulled his outer shirt over his head and walked out of the bedroom in his white undershirt and boxers.

He crossed the short hallway and stood leaning against the frame as he watched Lenna push sausage around the pan. On the counter sat a pile of steaming pancakes, and next to them sat butter, syrup, and even a can of whipped cream. The pancakes had chocolate chips in them. He smiled broadly as he gazed at her from behind, love for her swelling until it reached his throat and he could almost taste it.

She began to hum softly as she turned around toward the fridge for something and in so doing noticed Regulus standing there. She stopped and looked at him, then smiled a little.

"Morning."

"Morning, beautiful," he replied softly, coming toward her. His voice was a little raspy from sleep and he cleared his throat before taking her head in his head to bring it close so he could kiss her on her forehead. "Smells amazing."

"A house elf could put me to shame, I'm sure, but I try," she replied, her eyes soft as she looked at him. He could see muted relief in her face. Last night seemed like a nightmare, not reality. But it had happened, he had spoken to the Dark Lord, had terrorized whole towns of innocent people, and had broken down upon returning to her. But Lenna was strong. And he was better now.

"I'm okay," he whispered, touching her jaw with gentle fingertips.

Her mouth drew into a line but she didn't argue. She merely replied lightly, "You need a shower."

"Breakfast first."

"Can do." She turned to get a plate from a cabinet, pilled two pancakes and three sausages on it, and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said, smiling, and went over to put butter and syrup on them. Lenna poured both of them some orange juice and fixed a pancake for herself as well before joining him at the small table.

"Anything you want to talk about?" she asked gently.

Regulus took a breath and looked at her. "I'm sorry about Thursday night, Len. I know you must have been so worried when I didn't show up. If I could've sent my Patronus or anything, I would have. I'm sorry. It was very sudden and I couldn't send anything out."

She was quiet for a moment then replied guardedly, "I understand."

Regulus put down his fork and put both of his hands on hers across the table. "Lenna," he murmured. "I'm so sorry for the fear it caused you."

Lenna was looking down at their hands. Her lips and chin pinched in the odd way that let him know that she was stubbornly keeping tears at bay. "I went shopping at this Muggle grocery store yesterday evening. Just to do something normal. They had fish on sale. I wanted to get some…to cook for you but…I didn't know when or—or if you'd be home…"

Regulus squeezed her hand tightly and the tears she'd tried her hardest to keep back trickled down her smooth cheeks.

"And I just started sobbing over those stupid salmon fillets," she sighed, and forced a chuckling smile as she looked back up at him. Regulus did not smile. Pain spasmed in his gut over the anxiety she'd gone through—and would most likely continue to go through. She did not deserve it. She did not deserve to be uncertain as to whether her love would come home to her.

She seemed to see it in his face because she said, "Regulus, I know you do everything you can to help me and to come home as often as you can get away." She squeezed his hands. "You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault."

"Oh, I could argue that," he muttered in reply.

"Eat your pancakes, will you—they're getting cold."

Regulus smiled slightly and resumed eating. "I love the chocolate chips, by the way."

"My dad used to make them for me just like that."

He looked up at her. "How's he doing, your dad?"

Lenna shrugged. "Fine, I assume. He forgets to write sometimes, but I know he's happy with his job and everything." Lenna chuckled indulgently, thinking of him. "But I just got an owl yesterday morning from Cal—he's back from Ireland and brought his girlfriend back with him. He took his Arithmancy apprenticeship back up and they've actually bought a house." She poured some more syrup on her pancake.

Regulus raised his eyebrows and cracked a smile. "Blimey, good for him."

"Yeah, the way he talked about her I assume they're quite serious. 'Bout that time, I guess."

"He's what, twenty-three now?" Regulus cut up a sausage a put a piece into his mouth.

Lenna nodded. "Yeah. Cal mentioned she comes from money—he's already met her parents and likes them."

"What's her name?"

"Grace. Oh, and guess what? She's a registered Animagus. She can transform into a blue bird. Good sign, don't you think? It's a nice animal."

"That's impressive," Regulus replied, nodded. "Takes a lot of knowhow and work to become an Animagus." He dipped a piece of sausage into some of his syrup.

"Mmhm. She probably went to some private school. They have a place in a neighborhood a little west of Birmingham now. He says he really likes the neighborhood—it's not one of those cookie-cutter suburbs—it has unique houses well-spaced and everyone from new families to old people. They have a small garden in the front and a large yard in the back. I think it's a big house—with extra rooms."

"Huh. For kids? Think he's planning to marry her?"

Lenna nodded. "Cal has always known what he wants and gone after it. He's serious about this girl, I think. So yeah. I think he is planning on marrying her."

Regulus nodded.

"I've mentioned I have a guy—nothing specific about you of course but…he said he'd like to meet you. They'd like us to come see them for my birthday."

"That's in just a few weeks. It sounds nice. It's a good idea."

"You sure you'll…be able to get away? And are you okay with them knowing you? I mean, it's a little unsafe. I don't really know how I feel about it…I mean, it puts them in danger, knowing…"

"They're far enough away and uninvolved in anything…plus if it came down to it they can protect their house."

"They might recognize you from the _Prophet_," Lenna said quietly.

"Been in there, have I?" Regulus muttered with dark dryness.

"A while back it ran your picture along with those of every other known Death Eater so that people would be able to recognize them. Lately, of course, the _Prophet's_ getting grossly lax in its admonishments of Dark Magic and its reports on the disappearances, murders, and other horrible things perpetrated by the same. And we both know who to thank for that."

Regulus held her loaded gaze and then looked away in thought. "I think your brother deserves to know the realities of who I am, Len. I'll talk with him when we get there and make sure I can trust him and this Grace girl with the secret of us. As I doubt he wants to see you hurt, I'm sure it's safe with him. Besides, he's your family and I'd like to meet him. It's important." _And I don't know how much time we have_. It was an unspoken addition to his words that hung in the air between both of them.

Tears welled in Lenna's eyes again and she looked back down at her food to hide it. "I'll write him back then saying we're coming then."

Regulus nodded, cutting his pancake with the side of his fork. He finished it and took a drink of orange juice. Lenna finished eating as well and caught his eye. He held her gaze and smiled a little, then watched for her lips to mirror that small smile. Lenna stood from the table to put the dishes on the counter. Regulus followed, bringing over his dishes, then he wrapped his arms around Lenna's waist from behind and whispered in her ear, "I say it's shower time."

She turned in his arms and gazed up at him, her eyes mirroring his want and need. Before she could so much as nod, Regulus had slid a hand to her neck to tilt her head to meet his kiss. Lenna sighed lightly as she wrapped her arms around him, demanding him closer. Breakfast forgotten, Regulus lifted her into his arms with his hands under her thighs and her legs wrapped around his lower back, and they kissed as he walked her into the bathroom. He pulled off her pajamas and she did the same to his shirt and boxers, and Regulus started the water, not taking his eyes from her. As the water warmed as it poured from the spout, he took her in his arms again and heatedly kissed the skin of her shoulder and neck. Lenna basked in his attention, leaning her head back and running her soft hands up and down his warm, finely-shaped back and shoulders.

The shower was beginning to fill the bathroom with steam, so the two pulled aside the curtain and stepped in. As the hot water ran down their bodies, Regulus held her in his warm arms and kissed her sweet skin. Grinning, he pulled her under the spray and she laughed as the hot water soaked her hair and ran down her face. He pulled her against him and kissed her deeply. They needed one another profoundly, especially after three days of worry. They washed one another luxuriously, drawing out the desire and buildup. Then when they were both clean and the bathroom was filled with hot lavender steam, Regulus lifted her left leg up around him and they pressed close as he entered her with fiery perfection.

He bent his right leg slightly, hitching it under her, and Lenna closed her eyes with a moaning gasp, moving against that pressure. He reached around with his other hand and gripped her to pull her harder against him. Lenna leaned forward to kiss him as she gripped his back hard. The kiss broke as she moaned, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Regulus kept his eyes wide open to take in every inch of her expression even as pleasure rocked his body. He moved in the way he knew she loved and in turn Lenna moved against him with tight, strong pressure.

Regulus kept things slow and luxurious, not drawing too far out of her as he thrust gently. He and Lenna breathed together, groaning, grinning, watching each other's expressions. He reached a hand behind her to press against the wet wall and she turned to kiss his arm, closing her eyes and sighing in moans with his rhythm. She felt too warm and wet to be real. Regulus closed his eyes and let out a groaning sigh; each time he pushed into her was bliss. Soon Lenna's hips became more demanding and his rhythm quickened and hardened.

Slowly but surely her moans became sharp cries and he felt her shake and shiver with pleasure as she built to a climax. She pushed, arched, reached for more. Regulus met her thrust for thrust and held her close as she shattered with a cry, clenching and trembling around him. She had barely come back to earth when Regulus suddenly pulled out of her; her orgasm had pushed him over the edge, and he made deep, cut sighs as he came. He looked back up at her and she met his eyes with the languid smile he had come to associate with her sexual fulfillment. He grinned and pulled her against him again, kissing her face, her neck, her ears, her shoulders. Lenna kissed him back; every inch she could lay her mouth on. She wanted always to know that salty, masculine scent of him, his dripping raven hair, and the dark hair dusted on his chest from which a thin accenting line extended down from sternum to navel.

Regulus ran his steady hands through her wet hair and ran those hands all across her warm, dripping skin. Lenna reached up and slid her arms around either side of his neck to bring him down to kiss her. They kissed deeply, steadily; without the need and desperateness of their reunions. Orgasm had swept new, warm affection through them.

Lenna closed her eyes and laid her head on her love's shoulder, allowing herself only now to feel the completeness of her soul for the first time in four long days.

…


	13. CHAPTER 13: CONFISCATION

**CHAPTER 13: CONFISCATION**

…

"The more I've read about them, the more horrible they seem."

-Hermione Granger,

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J. K. Rowling

…

**T**he Malfoy's irritating young house elf Dobby led Regulus down the grand, overly-luxurious passageways of the Malfoy Manor. Despite being lavished in an absurdly plush style, the hallways seemed cold and lifeless, as did the dark, empty rooms and bare black doors. The pale faces in the portraits along the walls turned to watch him quietly and haughtily from their frames as he passed them.

The house elf walking beside him and a little ahead kept glancing up at Regulus with a furtively fearful expression as if he suspected Regulus was about to kick him across the hall at any moment. The elf was young; a wedding present from Lucius' family to the newlyweds. Regulus had only seen him twice before and each time grew irritated with the elf's high-pitched squeak of a voice and the way he fell over himself obeying orders.

Regulus was in too fine of a mood this evening to let the oddities of an elf get to him, however. He'd already spoken to Avery about freeing himself of duties on the weekend of Lenna's birthday and Regulus had been pleased that Avery had granted him the time without even asking why it was necessary, on the condition that Regulus perform a task the Dark Lord wants done which Lucius was too busy in the days to come to carry out, though it had originally been assigned him. Avery had told Regulus that it was not "the usual" kind of job, but the bored tone of his voice reassured Regulus it would not be anything too ghastly.

The two of them reached a handsome black door with two full-length windows into the room beyond on either side so Regulus could plainly see Lucius and Narcissa inside the room before Dobby knocked. He was struck again at how interesting a relationship his cousin and her husband shared. They were extremely private and seemingly cold about their affections to one another, but Regulus could see through the glass into the grand private study at which the couple sat beside one another on a cushioned bench nestled between bookcases and Lucius had one of Narcissa's hands gently in his two, speaking easily and closely to her by the relaxed look on his face. Regulus even thought he saw a small smile crack Lucius' thin lips before Dobby's knock interrupted them.

"Mr. Regulus Black is here for you, Master Lucius," Dobby squeaked, sounding frightened he had perhaps interrupted something important.

Lucius looked up, saw Regulus through the glass, and came to the door. When he opened it, Dobby jerked backward away from him, and Lucius spared him a cold, contemptuous scowl before looking to Regulus.

"Ah, Mr. Black. Yes, of course. Please join us." Without waiting for an answer, he turned, and Regulus followed him into the spacious study as Dobby slipped away.

"Regulus," Narcissa greeted softly, and kissed him gently on the cheek before slipping out of the room. Although she always appeared demure when with her husband in company—particularly Death Eater company—Regulus considered that to be one of Narcissa's greatest strengths. He had grown up with her and knew she was not as humble or meek as she acted. Narcissa was not a malicious woman—her main fault was a selfishness and self-importance that most Black children suffer from. But she was intelligent in her own right, and Regulus privately believed she held much sway over Lucius' decisions through her capture and possession of his heart—however small that heart might be. And by appearing subordinate to him in company, she cleverly ensured she was underestimated. A game of poker face, as most of Death Eater life is. Regulus himself played a similar deadly game of it.

"Do sit," Lucius said, taking the chair behind a large, handsome desk. An armchair close-by slid smoothly forward and Regulus sat.

"I understand you're taking this weekend to travel," Lucius said. He gestured with a pale hand to a box of expensive-looking cigars on the desk. "Please help yourself."

"Thank you, but I don't smoke," Regulus replied. "And you heard correctly."

"Business for the Dark Lord?" Lucius inquired and his eyes flashed to Regulus'. What was Lucius suspicious of?

"Personal business," Regulus responded smoothly.

"Ah. Well, of course you may go wherever you wish, but if summoned, you must return immediately from wherever you were to Dark Lord's side."

"I am aware of this."

Lucius almost smiled. "Yes, Mr. Black, I'm certain you are, but some things deserve repeating, especially to the young."

Regulus scowled internally. Lucius was not so much older than he was. And being summoned is the most sacred and basic rule of being an Eater. It did not necessitate repeating. Regulus was suddenly worried. Did they suspect him of wanting to run? In response he merely nodded at Lucius' words.

"Now," Lucius began, "I'm sure you're curious as to the task set to you before you leave. It is simple and easily-carried out, although of some delicacy." He snapped his fingers and a thick piece of parchment appeared between his fingers. He handed it to Regulus and Regulus looked down at the writing that was actually a list.

_Secrets of the Darkest Art_, _The Pursuit of Immortality_, _The_ _Furthest Lengths of Magic (3__rd__ Edition)_, _The Deadly Reaches of the Dark Arts_, _Herpo the Foul's Greatest Triumph_…

"Books?" Regulus asked, confused. Would he be asked to read all of these?

"Yes," Lucius replied. "The Dark Lord gave me that list of rare titles which he wanted removed from the Great Library of the Ministry. This is your task now, and it must be carried out discreetly. Although seeing as that is generally your style, I doubt that will be a problem."

"I will do so directly," Regulus replied, glad it was such a simple task. "It should not be a problem."

"Good. If I had done it, I would've kept the books at the Manor, however, I'm sure Grimmauld Place will serve just as well to store and hide the books safely and securely."

"Certainly." Regulus nodded.

"Excellent." Lucius stood and Regulus took it as a sign he too should stand and be taking his leave.

"You may use any of our fireplaces—they have direct access to the Ministry so you don't have to use that tedious visitor's entrance," Lucius offered as he walked him to the door.

"Thank you, I will."

Lucius called for his elf and commanded him bring Regulus to the nearest grand fireplace. Dobby immediately began scampering down the hall and Regulus had to quicken his pace to keep up. The elf brought him into a luxurious living room complete with a marvelous grand piano and the most enormous fireplace he'd ever seen. It was tall enough to stand in and spread both his arms straight out from his body without touching the sides. It looked as though it had never held an actual fire before. Regulus took a small handful of the bright green Floo Powder and stood in the fireplace as Dobby bowed himself out of the room.

"The Atrium of the Ministry of Magic," he intoned with authority and threw the powder down at his feet. A rush of emerald green flames erupted about him and Regulus was flying past grates too quickly to be able to make them out. Finally his feet found ground again and the flames receded, leaving him staring at the always-busy Atrium. The bustle was less congested because it was later in the evening, but the Ministry had staff working at all times of the day and night and was never exactly quiet. Regulus strode authoritatively through the large hall.

A wizard checking the wands of those with visitor's badges gave him a hard look but he gave a harder one back to him and the wizard looked away. The Great Library of the Ministry was on the first and largest level so Regulus did not need to take any of the elevators. He made his way through the crowd across the Atrium to the side opposite the fountain and down the enormous hall. Along the hall were branching halls that held the offices of top Ministry officials that basically run the offices that run the Ministry. In here was also the Minister of Magic's office, although the location of the office on this floor varied weekly, sometimes daily. Only the office receptionist stays in the same place to weed out who actually sees the Minister and who doesn't.

Regulus kept to the main hall and followed it all the way to the end. He was pleased to find himself alone when he reached the massive grand doors of the Great Library. They swung slowly open for him and he was again pleased to find only one person manning the reception desk to the right. He walked casually over to the desk and the reedy woman asked, "Identification, please."

Regulus had already slipped his wand out and pointed it at her quickly, murmuring "_Obliviate_." The woman's momentarily-shocked eyes glazed over and Regulus quickly did a spell to knock her out so that when she awoke she would simply assume she had fallen asleep. Knowing there must be other workers about, Regulus quickly preformed a spell to lock the grand doors and then a spell to learn how many people were in the library still. His wand moved smoothly toward the directions of the other people hidden by vast rows of shelves and staircases and levels and more shelves as if the library went on forever. His wand hummed quietly marking a person too many times for Regulus to be able to deal with them all, so he quickly undid his spell on the door and then transformed his features to a brown-haired, blue-eyed young man with a smaller nose and a rather more prominent chin.

His cloak swished behind him as he set off down a row, the receptionist's snores sounding behind him. The books were organized by topic and then by author, or by type and author in the case of genres such as fiction and horror. Books floated neatly past now and then, organizing themselves. Once as Regulus walked the entire collection of one author's work floated as one group out of its place on the shelf and rose upward to another level. In the far corner on the side of the reception desk as Regulus had walked in there had been a line of tagged books waiting to float into the small fireplace as some brown packaging wrapped them neatly of its own accord and a piece of parchment and quill floated along as well of its own accord, recording the titles and names of who the book was headed to, and as he walked, more tagged books floated past toward the front of the library presumably to get in line.

Regulus passed under a balcony as he walked and caught some conversation from people above.

"…I told him for years that nobody was going to be interested in his thesis on South African roundworms, but he published this book last weekend and it caught Ministry attention. Apparently the buggers have potent healing properties and he cured a whole tribe of its cases of sleeping sickness just by applying a paste. Now of course St. Mungo's is running a study and he's getting paid through the arse."

"Did he send you that sing-song Howler bragging about it too? The bastard…"

Regulus smiled to himself and continued toward one of the four dark magic sections in the Library. He'd decided his chances would be better in the worst and darkest section, and the air chilled and tautened as he entered it. The rows just seemed darker, and a few of the books were audibly whispering—from one of them a frantic, mad mumbling was ensuing then would've sent a shiver down Regulus' backbone had not he steeled it beforehand. Among the ominous books, Regulus slipped out his wand and murmured, "_Accio Secrets of the Darkest Art_."

There was a noise behind him and Regulus tuned to see a book jut out of the shelf a ways down the dark row and come toward him. Regulus caught it in his hand and looked down at it. On the cover was a picture of a hooded figure standing on a pile of yellowing bones. Making a face, Regulus took out a nondescript brown leather bag and tried to drop the book into it, but the book seemed to be meeting a force field. He scowled. He'd been afraid of the books having protection against being stolen. No matter. He stood with the book trying different spells and combinations of spells to undo the protective magical bindings on the volume. Finally after a complicated combination of three spells, the book shone briefly with a subtle orange glow and he dropped it into the bag, which got no heavier with the addition.

He continued to summon the books from his list on the shelf and mitigate the protective spells. Some books were not in his section and took much longer to come to him from other parts of the Library. Hopefully these did not attract attention, although Regulus doubted they would—so many books were already speeding around that his would hardly be noticeable.

_Herpo the Foul's Greatest Triumph_ was one of the books that took a while to come from its section when summoned, and for some reason he didn't put it in the bag right away after removing its spells. The title stuck out from the others—it was about a specific wizard, not just dark magic techniques as the others were. After Regulus had gathered all the books off the list and stored them in the bag, he went down the long whispery row to a dark armchair against the wall and opened _Herpo the Foul's Greatest Triumph_.

He remembered the name from his History of Magic courses; Herpo had been an Ancient Greek dark wizard whose work had a lasting effect upon dark magic to date. Just reading through the chapter titles jogged the specifics—Herpo had been the first wizard to successfully hatch a Basilisk and invented many curses that have since been honed and changed to create new ones. The last chapter was entitled _Triumph Over Death_. Regulus flipped to the back, puzzled. He was certain Herpo was dead. Why would it say he triumphed over death?

_Chapter 13_, he read. _After narrowly defeating his stepson's attempt on his life and his fallout with the now-matured Basiliscus, the records of the aging Herpo's work from this point in his life on lend clear insight to his mindset at the time. Faced with his own aging body and mind, his deteriorating dueling skills showcased by almost failing to murder young, power-hungry Abrax, and perhaps also the remarkable ability of Basiliscus to cut the fragile cord of life with simply a glance of his yellow eyes, Herpo was now obviously tormented by that which plagues all men: their own mortality. _

_His work and generated spells and elixirs now began to focus on rejuvenating the old and worn, protecting against sickness and catastrophe, and most especially elongating the life. It is said Herpo devoted long, excruciating hours to this purpose. Records of his writing show a fevered mind; a mind almost stretched to the breaking point with the desire to create a protection against that which he feared most. And indeed, many said he did go mad. With his enormous power and control of people, he took prisoners from nearby Muggle settlements and imprisoned them. And in this cruel, medieval way, Herpo set about studying death. He knew the soul would live on though a body is destroyed—the occurrence recognized as death. However, Herpo was the first to comprehend—even in his fevered way—that if the soul were given another home, there might be life again. However, with the body being the opposite of the soul, the soul would be destroyed if that which it now relies upon to harbor it is destroyed. Armed with this theory, Herpo tried desperately to discover a magic that would put a soul into a new home if the body could no longer harbor it. But no magic he could wield could ever come close to this result. He went through what may have been hundreds of subjects. But it was because of his previous experimenting with murder that led to the answer. _

_It was known at this time that murder damages one's soul, although it was Herpo who, by experimenting with his prisoners and having them murder one another, discovered through use of dark and twisted magic exactly how this happened and to what extent. His measurements exist to this day, although much of his writing is illegible and senseless. But if the soul could be split neatly, cleanly, and given a safe home, it would act as a backup so that if the flesh should perish, the second half would still cling to this world and this life. It was not difficult for Herpo to perfect the magic and the ritual used to gather the torn soul—a ritual which has indeed remained unchanged through the many, many years—but implanting it in a new receptacle was excruciatingly challenging for Herpo to master. He tried human bodies for a very long time, unable to open his mind to the possibility that a soul could inhabit anything else, but using human bodies was of course fraught with problems; a human body is mortal and after it perishes, so would the soul inside. Also, the soul has limited effect on the mind of the living person whose body it inhabits, and Herpo wished to take control of a new body. He attempted briefly to rejuvenate life into corpses by putting soul fragments into them but with nothing to sustain the fragment, it was destroyed in this process. _

_Among his findings here was that the remaining soul in the old body became unstable after its other half was removed; his victims many times showed erratic, vicious behavior and a few even ended up either killing themselves or losing their minds. Arguably, the live body implantations were Herpo's first successes because the piece of soul had been successfully imbibed in something else and protected, to Herpo's extreme excitement, the soul from death. The soul lived on in an incorporeal form—as what Herpo described as an "angry, dark, smoky mass in which sometimes the face of the deceased could be glimpsed". The "mass" attempted for hours to get back into its body and then without support, ceased to exist. _

_Herpo's work forced him to travel across Ancient Greece victimizing Muggles to experiment on. Even with magical protection, these disappearances did not go unnoticed long and Herpo was forced to move on again and again, leaving behind him a very clear trail of fear behind him that sprung stories of haunted forests and caves. But he continued getting closer to answers, and according to his maniacal records, one winter he took the severed soul of an imprisoned Muggle who had just taken the life of one of his fellows and, after performing the necessary magic and rituals, attempted on a whim to imbibe a nearby rock with the soul piece. He then promptly dispatched of the man and his other soul half, and again discovered the incorporeal living mass that was all that was left of the man, hanging onto this world because of the soul imbibed in the rock. In so doing, Herpo the Foul created the first Horcrux as they are known today to the few and the dark. _

Regulus blinked a few times at the unfamiliar word. He'd never heard anything like this—the soul ripping, the twisted attempt at immortality… He dug through the other books in his bag and pulled them out and flipped through the chapter titles. After searching, he found in every single one information about Horcruxes. Regulus dropped the last book back into the bag and sat staring at nothing. Why did Lord Voldemort want to hide volumes mentioning Horcruxes?

Regulus snuck back through the library, his mind churning with suspicions and one frightening but convincing theory.

"Good evening," a blonde, balding man greeted as he appeared coming out of a row toward the front the same time as Regulus did. Regulus gave an easy smile.

"Evening."

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Oh, a coworker recommended me a title, but I looked at the book and it wasn't really what I needed. Thank you, though," Regulus replied. He continued toward the doors as the man stopped and exclaimed toward the snoring receptionist, "Mary! Mary, do your job, will you?!"

Regulus snickered to himself as the doors closed behind him to Mary's stammered apologies. He took the Floo Network back to Grimmauld, and opened one of his parents' secret hiding places in the house. The basement itself was a hiding place as it had enchantments upon it that only family members could get through, but there were places there that were even doubly hidden. Regulus walked to the end of the room and ran his hand down the back of a small werecat statue on the shelf as if petting it. The stone statue shifted, blinking its small, silted eyes, and an eerie black doorway appeared in the wall beside the shelf. It was a pitch black hole that looked at if it would dissolve the flesh if one stuck a body part through it, but Regulus knew it was only an illusion. He walked casually into the black and was inside a dim, low-ceilinged room.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, and his wandlight illuminated the ugly, incriminating treasures his parents kept here. Regulus walked to an empty section of wall and took the books out one by one, stacking them gently on the floor. When he was done, he tucked the bag back in his cloak and stood up, staring down at the dark little collection. Then he turned away. But as he left the hiding place, he was quite certain about one thing. He would be back to investigate them and learn everything he could about what Lord Voldemort was taking pains to keep from the world…the existence of his Horcrux.

"_Nox_."

…


	14. CHAPTER 14: FAMILY

**CHAPTER 14: FAMILY  
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…

"The family is a haven in a heartless world."

-Christopher Lasch

…

"**W**hat is it with women and over-packing?"

Lenna swatted Regulus with her pair of pants. "And what is it with men and thinking that turning a pair of underwear inside out constitutes having another pair?" she retaliated.

Regulus chuckled. "I don't do that. Two pairs for two days. You have enough for a month in here." He began tossing her panties at her and she squealed.

"Quit it, you troll!" she exclaimed. "Bloody hell! Alright, four pairs for two days, that's all I ask."

"Fine."

She rolled her eyes and scowled at him as he pawed through the suitcase. He held up her swimsuit with questioning eyes. "Uh, love, do they have a pool?"

"No, but you never know. If we do end up going swimming, you're going to have to go naked because you won't have boxers to spare," she teased.

Regulus held up a matching lingerie set she'd packed and replied with a wide smirk, "Nah, I'll just go in this."

Lenna tackled him to wrestle it back and they fell back, laughing, onto the bed.

"I'd like to see you in that!" Lenna giggled, stuffing her sexy sleepwear back into the suitcase.

"I wouldn't. You, on the other hand…" He leaned forward and kissed her ear. Lenna squirmed, smiling.

"That tickles."

"Mm." Regulus cupped her face in his hand and kissed her.

"We're going to be late," Lenna mumbled. Regulus sighed and kissed her a last time before helping her finish packing for the weekend at her brother's new home.

"Got everything?" Regulus asked somewhat dryly after Lenna had wandered around the apartment for the second time, looking around. "All you really need is a toothbrush and underwear, love. And if god forbid you forget something, you know this place is only an Apparition away."

"Stuff it," Lenna retorted, coming back over to him. She grinned, unable to keep up the face she had been giving him. She'd made some dishes for her brother and his girlfriend and also an amazing-looking cheesecake that she'd had to swat Regulus away from for the last hour.

"Okay, let's go," she finally relented. "We'll be late in a few minutes." She picked up the covered dishes as Regulus lifted the suitcase and they left the apartment, locking it magically and non-magically behind them. After looking down the hall, Lenna grasped Regulus' free hand and began to turn on the spot. Landscape seemed to jettison past as they felt themselves squeezed through a tight tube and then were in a grove of trees with a _pop_. Regulus dropped her hand to straighten his shirt and while doing so looked around through the trees.

"Anybody?"

"Not that I can see."

"Alright, let's go." She scooted through the trunks and pushed branches out of her way, crossing a short yard. "Here, this is the street—they're down here a bit I think."

"Couldn't you have just Apparated in front of their house? You know the address."

"I'd never been here before, give me a break," she replied. "Plus I like walking and being able to take things in like this."

"Mm," Regulus replied, but as she spoke he took a good look around and appreciated what she said. The neighborhood was beautiful on this summer afternoon. The air was warm, but it apparently had been raining enough to keep the grass a pretty green, and as they walked they passed a number of unique and pleasing homes.

"Ooh, I like that one," Lenna murmured, gesturing to a medium-sized two-story white house with a balcony on the top floor and rows of windows. They had a garden out front with a copius amount of lavender. Regulus smiled a little.

"That does look like your kind of place."

"C'mon, they're expecting us," Lenna said, pulling his shirt. They rounded a bend in the road with tall oak trees and at the end of the cul-de-sac was a cream-colored house with a small flower garden in front of a neat patio with a cushioned bench on it and a white front door. Beside the door read 6823 in a handsome black script.

"They have a garage," Lenna giggled. "Wonder what they use it for? Maybe it just _looks_ like a garage?" She led Regulus up the drive and onto the patio. Before she could knock twice the door was wrenched open, and her brother stood there ginning hugely at her.

"Lenna!" he exclaimed. "Grace, they're here!" He tugged Lenna inside by her shirt and wrapped her in an enormous bear hug.

Cal was similar to how Regulus had pictured him; he had the same dark brown hair as Lenna and the same kind eyes. His hair was a controlled mop and his shoulders were very wide and sturdy. He had a tall build with well-defined biceps, though a tad overweight above his belt in the front. He had dark stubble down the sides of his jaw and lightly around his chin.

"Lenna, Lenna, Lenna, how you been, sis?" he exclaimed. He pulled her away from him and put his wide hands on her shoulders. "_Guh_—you keep looking older, every time I see you. Quit that." He looked at Regulus as he stepped inside. His eyebrows flickered upward as he in took Regulus' pale, sculptured face and broad build. Regulus smiled a little but Calun's expression straightened as if doing business. He extended a hand which Regulus took and shook firmly.

"Calun Albeney."

"Regulus Arcturus." He wasn't going to give his full name until later when they spoke privately. "Good to meet you."

"You too," Calun replied. "Arcturus," he repeated. "Like the star. Huh. Well." He turned and called out with a grin, "Gracie!"

There was the sound of the back door opening and closing and a woman's voice with an Irish accent called from the back of the house, "Are they here?"

"Just got here," Cal replied as the young woman came from the hall, wiping her hands on a towel. She was tall with shortish light-blonde hair and wide, bright blue eyes. She had a thin, light frame and was wearing a pretty white summer dress. She beamed happily at them as she joined them in the hall.

"Sorry, I was out back," she said as she reached for Lenna's hand. "Grace Worthington. You must be Lenna."

Lenna shook it, smiling. "Glad to finally meet you, Grace. Guys, this house is beautiful. I love the furniture. Bet that's your doing, Grace, my brother wouldn't know color schemes if they bit him in the bum."

Grace laughed and Cal rolled his eyes. Grace held her hand to Regulus as well who shook it, smiling.

"Regulus. Pleasure to meet you, Grace."

"You too, Regulus. Come on in, both of you. Is that for us?" she asked, gesturing to the food in Lenna's arms.

"Of course," Len replied. "Kitchen?"

"Over here," Grace said, leading them all through the pretty house. The rooms were well-kept and clean, although lived in. Cal's dirty boots could be seen by the garage door. Their kitchen was sun-filled with maple cupboards and a cream countertop. Their living room was cosy with a small fireplace, a thick rug, large couches and armchairs, and art over the mantle. Lenna smiled as she saw the combination of their two hobbies; in one corner of the room sat a violin case and music stand, and in another sat some of Cal's hunting equipment.

"Are you still woodworking?" Lenna asked him. Her brother loved his hobbies.

Cal grinned. "Yeah. In fact, I made the dining room table—no magic involved. Well, okay I lengthened one board that I accidentally cut too short, but that's it."

"Impressive," Regulus complimented, admiring the table as they walked into the room. The girls put the food on the counter while the boys were in the dining room.

"I made a chicken casserole and a raspberry cheesecake," Lenna said, putting her dishes in their crowded refrigerator.

"Ooh, that sounds wonderful, thank you," Grace replied with a smile. The guys came back into the kitchen and Grace got out some iced tea. "Back porch?"

"Sure, sounds good, love," Cal replied, grabbing some glasses and leading the party out to the back porch. They sat down outside in the warm early evening at the glass porch table around which sat cushioned metal chairs. Along the porch red, pink, and white roses were blooming and further out in the grassy backyard were a number of handsome oaks and maple trees. Further to the side of the yard was a small vegetable patch with a collection of stone turtles and a bird bath. Lenna grinned. She loved the place more and more.

With cold iced tea in their hands and bees buzzing about the flowers, the four chatted easily, laughing often. Grace even got out a camera and charmed it to snap a few photos of them. Lenna and her brother caught up with one another's lives and then Lenna asked Grace about herself and had the both of them tell her and Regulus about Cal's trip to Ireland and how the two met. Luckily for everyone, Cal didn't interrogate Regulus overly much. Regulus explained how they met at school and things were left at that. Eventually they got out Lenna's chicken and then her cheesecake began to disappear when Grace brought it outside as well. Lenna wanted to see Grace transform, and after being prodded, she transformed with a whirl of color into a blue bird which hopped onto the back of her chair, then flitted onto Cal's head—he rolled his eyes. Grace took a flight around the yard, then came back to the table and hopped good-naturedly about the table before returning to her chair, human again, to claps from Lenna and Regulus.

When the bugs began to come out with the fall of evening, they went back inside to the living room. As they walked, Cal whispered to his sister, "He doesn't say too much, does he?"

She shrugged. "To me he does. But yeah, in company he prefers to listen as opposed to making the conversation."

Cal nodded and when they got into the living room he got the fireplace going as Grace got some wine to serve. The conversation continued easily. Lenna grew fond of Grace, laughing with her and teasing Cal with her. The girl was sweet, but had a clever wit, and the two got along well to Cal's delight.

"Are you still working on Dad's old car?" Lenna asked him. She was leaning against Regulus' chest as Cal and Grace sat together in a wide armchair with her legs across Cal's.

"Yeah!" Cal exclaimed, beaming suddenly. "I am! It's looking great—want to see?"

Grace laughed. "Ugh, that old useless pile of metal. He tinkers away at it every chance he gets," she teased as Cal stood and led them all out to the garage. "I don't understand the appeal."

"It's a Muggle thing," Lenna laughed, following her brother. "It was Dad's car that he was always trying to fix up as a hobby. Cal seems to have inherited the interest—and the talent at it, if I remember correctly."

"I imagine it _is_ talent," Grace replied, grinning, "but all I see is him all greasy and sweaty using Muggle tools on the metal insides of this loud, environment-damaging contraption."

Cal laughed and held the door open for them as they filed into the spacious garage and looked at the car sitting there.

"This is my Goat," Cal said proudly, grinning. "It's a '65 Pontiac GTO, all the rage in America at the beginning of the rise of muscle cars. She's a beaut. I just like making it louder and faster—when I have the extra funds for it, that is."

Regulus walked around the vehicle and Cal followed him. Cal lifted the hood, and as Regulus looked, Cal watched his face expectantly.

"Pretty wicked, eh?"

"I have no idea what I'm looking at," Regulus answered honestly. "These tubes and silver things make the—what'd you call it, a car?—work?"

Cal rolled his eyes and groaned, shutting the hood. "Ugh, you're breakin' my heart, mate," he sighed.

"He's pureblood, Cal. He has an excuse," Lenna giggled. Calun gave Regulus a look.

"Pureblood, eh? Huh." He rubbed his bristly chin. "Not many left. You'd think I'd have heard of the Arcturus family if it's pure."

"We try and keep to ourselves," Regulus murmured, looking away from Cal and at the car instead. Cal gave him a hard look, but then shrugged.

"Probably best. But aren't you lot anal about who you get involved with then? Y'know, to stay pure? Len's only a half-blood and pop's side was muddy at that."

"Doesn't matter to me," Regulus replied, looking Cal in the eye. "One loves whom one loves."

There was quiet and then Cal smiled and smacked Regulus on the shoulder. "Aye. Irresistible, ain't she?" he laughed. He slung an arm around Lenna. "Seems like you've got a decent one here."

Lenna smiled. "Thank you, Cal. Although, your approval isn't exactly necessary."

Cal snorted. "Yeah, you know what, I'm pleasantly surprised. It wouldn't be unlike you to bring along a tattooed, chain-smoking, bearded git just to piss your big bro off."

Lenna giggled. "You're giving Regulus the wrong idea about me, Calun."

"Oh I've already had the wrong idea about you," Reg teased. Len and Grace laughed and Lenna walked around inspecting the Goat.

"It runs, right?" she asked her brother and Cal grinned. He summoned the keys and leaned inside it to start the beast. As the car roared to life, Regulus leapt back drawing his wand as if expecting it to try to eat him.

"Bloody…!" he exclaimed, then trailed off, slowly replacing his wand. Lenna squeezed his arm and chuckled.

Cal straightened and looked at Lenna happily. "Sounds beautiful, doesn't she?" He patted the car lovingly. He turned it off and then they headed back inside.

…


	15. CHAPTER 15: BROTHERS ARE LIKE THAT

**CHAPTER 15: BROTHERS ARE LIKE THAT  
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…

"The world isn't split between good people and Death Eaters."

-Sirius Black,

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, J. K. Rowling

…

"**B**limey, is it that late already?" Cal said when he spied the clock on the wall in the living room. "Here, we should get you both set up in one of our rooms. We have two extra upstairs and then a guest bedroom on this floor."

"Guest bedroom sounds good," Lenna replied, following him into the front hall where Cal picked up their suitcase and carried it into the bedroom. The queen-sized bed was already made and blankets and towels were laid out neatly at the end of it.

"Need help cleaning up in the kitchen and outside?" Lenna asked Grace.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"I most certainly do," Lenna replied, walking out of the room. Grace followed her and their voices faded as they walked across the house.

"Could I see the upstairs?" Regulus asked. "It's a beautiful home. I think Len likes it a lot."

"Sure thing," Cal replied, and the two walked upstairs. "Right now one spare room has Grace's scrapbooking things in it and some of my exercise equipment and y'know, spare clutter and things we haven't gotten around to unpacking and finding a place for yet. This is the bath, and we have this other spare room here set up as another guest bedroom. The master and a tiny little study are down here." Calun led him into a large room. It had a double-doored closet, shelves along the walls holding knickknacks and pictures in frames. There were paintings on the walls and a beautiful picture window with a door beside it leading onto a tiny balcony.

Regulus sat on the bed. "Cal, I need to speak with you."

The change in Regulus' tone had Calun's immediate attention. His eyes hardened and he sat beside Regulus slowly.

"About?"

"Me. There are things you deserve to know about me which your sister already knows and has chosen to love me despite of."

Cal looked hard at him with an unreadable expression. "And these things are?"

Regulus took a deep breath. "My name is Regulus Arcturus Black."

"Black," Cal mouthed. "As in…_Black_ Black?"

Regulus grimaced. "As in the Black family. Cousin to Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda Black. Cousin-in-law to Rodolphus Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy."

Calun was quiet for a moment, eyes narrow, and then said gruffly, "A family of Death Eaters."

Regulus nodded once. "Yes."

Cal was silent for another moment and then he seized Regulus' left arm. Regulus calmly let him shove back the shirt sleeve, though he regretted not being able to say more before Calun discovered his unfortunate allegiances.

At the sight of the Mark, Cal leapt off the bed and faced Regulus, fury in his usually-soft brown eyes. He rubbed his jaw roughly with one hand, while the other gripped his wand in his right jean pocket as he paced briefly, glaring at Regulus the entire time, and finally growled, stopping in front of him, "If not for my sister, I would kick you out of my house _this instant_. I don't believe you when you say she knows. Lenna would _never_ be with a foul, murdering _git_ like you and your lot. She'd never associate herself with your hatred, your war, your murders. You've broken families and friends with your evil and your master's evil. How _dare_ you bring the stain of your hatred into my home? You're endangering all of us just by coming here—and endangering my _sister_ by being with her." He paced again, almost shaking with fury—fury controlled only because Regulus was watching him calmly with obvious sadness and shame in his eyes.

"Do you deny it?" Cal spat. "Do you deny the danger you're putting us in simply by walking through the front door?"

"No, I do not," Regulus murmured. "And I am terribly sorry for it. But it was important to Lenna that we meet and know one another. We are both very important in her life. If you would allow me to attempt to explain, although I realize nothing can make up for the brand upon my forearm, you might better understand my relationship with your sister and my own character as well. I come from a horrible family, Calun, and am no saint. But I love your sister with all my being."

"Bollocks," Calun spat. "Murderers can't love, you piece of shite. You're—_agh_, I can't _believe_ you!" he cried, pulling at his hair. "You come into my house and keep this fucking shite to yourself like you're just another guy—just some guy—and my sister, my _sister_, she's—god, she's _good_, you know, really good. Sweet and kind and smart and she deserves someone to take care of her and make her happy and devote themselves to her for the rest of their lives and you can't do that for her, can you? You're just putting her life on the line every time you report to your goddamn Lord, aren't you, git? I won't have it! You're not to see her anymore!"

…

Lenna and Grace had finished up in the kitchen, washing and putting things away with waves of their wands.

"That was amazing cheesecake," Grace complimented kindly. "I noticed Cal particularly enjoyed it."

"It was always a favorite of his," Lenna replied, grinning. She conjured the recipe and handed it to Grace. "Here you go."

"Oh, thank you," Grace replied happily, tucking the slip of paper away carefully. "And I might just do this as well, so that he has pieces to take with him to work for the rest of the week." There was one piece of cheesecake left and she performed a spell to refill the dish again. Lenna giggled.

"He'll be happy to see that. Although you might have to encourage him to go do some jogging next weekend."

"Shall we find the boys?" Grace asked.

Lenna sighed. "Regulus is probably having a rather serious conversation with Calun right now, actually, Grace."

Grace's delicate eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "About what?"

"Regulus has an unfortunate past and a difficult life right now. We decided together that Cal deserved to know the hard details. Depending on how Cal takes it, Reg might get kicked out of the house."

"Oh no," Grace replied, "Cal wouldn't do that. Regulus seems quite nice. Rather quiet, but very polite. Surely Cal can forgive his past."

"It's not just his past that's complicated, unfortunately," Lenna murmured. Grace looked up toward the ceiling with a worried expression.

…

Regulus stood abruptly and Calun drew his wand at the sudden movement. Regulus stared the young man down, his eyes stony.

"Say whatever you like about me, but I am _not_ leaving Lenna's side. She is my life. She keeps me sane. I will not survive without her, so if I were you, I would not try and part us." Regulus took a deep breath and then sat back down on the bed so that his presence was less physically threatening. Calun took a few deep breaths, glaring at him.

"But everything you said is true, Cal," Regulus murmured. "Lenna deserves much more and much better than me. I do theoretically put her in danger, although I would die before letting anything happen to her… I keep up a very careful mask. No one knows of our relationship and I fully intend to ensure it stays that way."

"And how can you guarantee that? You can't. You can't guarantee her safety. I don't get it. I don't believe she knows. She can't know about this," Cal muttered, gesturing to Regulus' arm. "She'd never love someone like you."

Regulus glanced away, pain flashing in his hard eyes, and Calun was a little ashamed of himself. Regulus replied softly, "I think she knows me a little better than you do. But I agree, her affections aren't something I deserve. Though neither are they something I am willing to give up. If it came to it, I would do so to protect her, although we have argued about this. She's not afraid of what could be done to her. Torture, death… But I'm afraid _for_ her. I could never see something like that happen to her. I simply cannot allow it to happen and because of that not even the Dark Lord himself sees through me. I don't know how or why, but I am not going to question it.

"I became a Death Eater last summer," he continued slowly, taking advantage of Cal's silence. "I was foolish, ignorant, influenced by the opinions of my family and the way in which I was raised. Also at this time Lenna and I had broken up, and I was in a bad place, though this is hardly an excuse. I was convinced at the time that it was the right path for me. In my ignorance, I looked to the Dark Lord whom I had had barely any contact with, as a god among men. The person who really had it right. I felt honored to join the ranks of what I assumed to be powerful and clever witches and wizards working together to shape a better future for all wizardkind.

"I learned, shortly thereafter of course, that the reality was… Well, being an Eater is not like being in a family, it is like being in a war. It relies upon strengths and deceits and weaknesses are preyed upon without question. Most of those involved are not clever, but thick and cruel, capable only of taking orders and instilling fear into the innocent. And the Dark Lord does not in fact have the greater good in mind—he merely amasses his power for power's sake. My own family—if they can be called my family—do nothing to support me. As you said, murder takes away from one's ability to love."

"Have you killed anyone?" Cal demanded.

Regulus grimaced. "Not as of yet. However, I have provided the means for others to torture and kill, and I have facilitated plans for the same. I have thus far been able to avoid doing so personally, though how long I am able to continue to do so is up to fate. It I must to protect myself and Lenna, I will. As I said, I am no saint.

"Calun," he said earnestly, "It is not my intention to upset you, only to be honest with you. If you wish it, I will leave tonight. But Lenna and I both wanted you to fully understand things. This is what we have chosen. We are living life as best and as normally as possible, but it is a difficult path. And if we disappear one day, you have the right to know why."

Calun scrunched up his face, pain in his eyes. "Don't talk about my sister disappearing."

"If anyone will disappear suddenly, it will be me. They won't know about Lenna and that will keep her safe. But you must be prepared to take care of her in that eventuality."

"'Course I'll take care of her! Better than you, I reckon," he muttered darkly.

Regulus could've argued, but he didn't. "Despite your disgust and fear, I thought you'd rather know than be kept in the dark."

Cal scowled. "Yes, but that doesn't excuse any of this. That doesn't make it better."

"You think I don't _know_ that?" Regulus growled, standing, some of his control slipping in the weight of his frustration and shame. "You think the danger and worry I put Lenna and her family in doesn't torture me every minute I breathe? You think I'm not ashamed of who I am and the choices I've made? Ashamed of the fact that we have to have this conversation? That Lenna can't be proud and happy to bring me into her brother's home? Do you honestly think I get my kicks out of bringing darkness into the life of the most amazing woman I've ever met?" Regulus turned away from him, then back. "You don't think I would protect her in every way I humanly could? You don't think that if there was another opinion—any better, easier option—that I would take it in a heartbeat, no matter what I personally had to sacrifice?" He turned slightly and scowled off to the side. "I'm not a ray of fucking sunshine, Calun, but Lenna is everything to me, my every happiness is because of her, so don't dare insult me by thinking I don't love her!"

…

Lenna was admiring some of Cal's woodworking in the living room when both she and Grace heard raised voices above them. When Len heard the timbre of Regulus' yell, she excused herself from Grace's company and swiftly climbed the stairs.

…

Regulus took a few deep breaths, glaring at Cal, and then sat back down on the bed. "I apologize for losing my temper," he said after a moment.

"Actually, I appreciated that little outburst."

"Look, bottom line is, if you need me to leave, I will. But I'm not going anywhere from Lenna's life. Not voluntarily. It's how things are. Life is never cake. I could apologize every minute to all three of you for my history and my identity and my life at present, and it still wouldn't be enough, but I can't change it and I can't leave Len. So I'm doing the best with what it is I can do."

"And Lenna understands?" Cal asked seriously. "Everything?"

"She understands," Lenna said from the doorway. The boys both looked up at her. Lenna came in and sat fluidly beside Regulus, cupping one of his hands in both of hers. "Are my men done yelling at each other yet?"

"He's a Death Eater, Len," Cal sighed. "What're you doing with a Death Eater?"

"He's what I want," she replied firmly, her eyes flashing as she stared at Cal as if daring him to argue. "Do me a favor and swallow it. If I can see who he is past it, so can you."

"There is nothing past that, Len!" Cal exclaimed. "That's who he is! How do you know he's not out there murdering innocent families during the night? Death Eaters epitomize everything wrong with our society—everything you and I would give our lives fighting _against_!"

"Calun," Lenna said, her voice ringing, "I love him." Her expression was not one to be contested. That didn't stop her big brother from trying.

"But—"

"Calun," she said again in the same no-bullshit tone. "Remember that summer on the coast when I was ten? We rocked the hammock so much that it flipped us and I landed next to you with a mouthful of sand and you told me I couldn't ever get married because no one would be good enough? What did I say to you then, Cal?"

Cal's face was slowly turning an interesting shade of purple. His mouth was scrunched as if he were sucking on a lemon and his eyes were trained on Lenna's as if his wrath could stop her from speaking. It didn't work, of course.

"I told you that one day I would find someone that I thought was good enough and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I said I wouldn't say that to you unless I was sure. This is the man, Calun. This person sitting next to me. Do you understand? He's it."

Calun seemed to be wrestling with something too monstrous for words. His face became an even darker purple and his balled fists shook as he stared between the two of them. Lenna did not say a word as she watched him calmly, and Regulus followed her lead, although the silence was taut and long. Cal strode to the window after a tense minute, looked out for a few seconds, and then whirled around, opening his mouth and raising his hand as if about to say something, but at the last minute he clamped his mouth shut, sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, and then whirled around again to look back out the window.

After another moment or so, he strode back over to stand in front of them with his arms crossed and his breath whooshing through his nostrils as if he were an angry rhinoceros. He glared back and forth between them without a word. He stared long and hard at Regulus as his facial color ever so slowly returned to something near normal. Finally his body gave a violent, spastic twitch, and he exclaimed, "Fine! _Fine_! Welcome to the family, you tattooed _hoodlum_!" And with that, he stomped away back downstairs.

Lenna was smiling.

"He took that well," she said happily. Regulus stared at her.

"That was taking it _well_? He almost threw me out of the house!"

"Yes, well, older brothers are like that."

…


	16. CHAPTER 16: BREAKFAST

**CHAPTER 16: BREAKFAST  
><strong>

…

"Harmony is pure love, for love is a concerto."

-Lope de Vega

…

**L**enna woke in the guest bed to an awful clanging. She sat bolt upright, frightened, before she heard uproarious laughter coming from the kitchen. She lay back down in bed, smiling. She'd fallen asleep soundly last night in Regulus' arms. It had been an eventful day yesterday, but a good one. She was proud of Regulus, not only for the man he was, but for proving his worth to her brother, and she was proud of Cal for recognizing there was nothing he could do about the match but open his heart to someone he never would normally have done so for.

She slipped out of bed, wrapped a blanket around her and her pajamas and walked out into the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway seeing Grace laughing hysterically as Regulus and Cal mock-fought with a number of kitchen utensils—pans, spoons, salt shakers, etc—by manipulating them at one another with their wands.

"Aha!" Cal cried, swinging his wand beneath his other raised arm and sending a cutting board at Regulus' head.

"Right!" Regulus exclaimed, catching the board in thin air with his swift Seeker abilities and lobbing it back by hand at Cal while sending a small army of hand towels and a frying pan toward Cal with his wand. Calun managed to stop the pan and cutting board with his wand, but the towels all hit him in the face.

"Morning, birthday girl!" he yelled through a mouthful of fabric. He swiped the daisy patterns from his face just in time to deal with Regulus' onslaught of magnets from the fridge. "Hope you slept well! Oop, careful with those, Reg, they're Grace's mother's!" he painstakingly halted the magnets' flight with his wand and a cackling Regulus took the opportunity to pelt him with the towels again.

"I did until I heard this ruckus," Lenna replied, grinning. She winked at Grace, who was carefully levitating the magnets away from the fighting. Grace beamed.

"Hope you don't mind this," Lenna called to her as Cal pelted Reg with two boxes of cereal and a ladle.

"Oh," Grace dismissed smiling and waving a hand as she put the magnets back on the refrigerator. "Cal's done worse to this house. You should've seen him last week—he had to replace a transiconverter pipe or something in the Goat and came in covered in grease and a bit of his own blood and washed dirty car parts right in my kitchen sink."

Lenna laughed. That sounded like Cal. "Did you ground him for a month?"

Grace giggled. "He wasn't _grounded_ but he most certainly did all the cleaning by himself."

There was a crash as Cal didn't manage to pluck a flying mug out of the air and it landed with a shatter on the tile floor. Both boys looked up at Grace with sheepish expressions.

"Alright, are you two done now?" Lenna inquired teasingly as Cal repaired the cup like new with a quick _Reparo_ spell. Regulus smirked.

"He threw egg white on me, Len, I had to retaliate," he defended, grinning.

"He's right," Cal agreed, putting things back where they belong with his wand. "I would've taken the mickey out of him if he hadn't."

"Happy birthday, by the way," Regulus said tenderly, and kissed her on the top of her head.

"Thanks," she replied. "Well, what's for breakfast?"

"Eggs, sausage, toast, bananas, and fresh blueberry muffins courtesy of my darling girlfriend," Cal replied. Grace laughed.

"That's quite a list," Lenna replied.

"Innit? And I've got your boy here helpin', though he doesn't' know two shites about how to cook."

"Hey!" Regulus retorted, wagging a spatula at him. "One heats things and their chemical makeup changes. I get the concept."

Cal leaned over to mutter to Lenna, "He wouldn't know cooking if Julia Child sucked his fuzzy left—"

"_Oi_!" Regulus cried, throwing a towel at Cal that hit him in the shoulder. "Mind your mouth, oaf!"

"You don't even know who Julia Child is, you pretentions blighter," Cal replied, smirking.

Lenna giggled. "You two have been at it all morning, haven't you?"

"We love it," Cal replied. "But the women need to get out of our kitchen! How d'you expect us to make breakfast with these distractions? Out!" Cal ordered grinningly and Grace and Lenna were herded from the kitchen. They went out onto the sunny porch, laughing.

"Well, I'm glad they're getting on," Lenna said, dropping into one of the chairs and absently watched some birds in the garden bird bath across the yard.

Grace sighed happily. "Oh, they were even more amusing before you woke up." She chuckled to herself. "Regulus is very funny when he relaxes. Something changed in him from yesterday. He's himself now."

Lenna nodded. "Hangin' with Cal will probably be good for him, too. He doesn't have very many role models, y'know?"

"I can imagine," Grace replied gently. "His family situation is…?"

"Unsupportive," Len supplied. "To say the least. Did Cal talk to you last night?"

"Yes…he told me. It's hard to grasp, quite honestly. London and the war seem so far away… I mean, I know about the disappearances, the take overs, Unforgivables being used… It just never seemed like it would touch us."

"I'm sorry," Lenna murmured. "You would've been safer staying in Ireland…"

"Tosh," Grace replied firmly. "I wanted to come here to be with Cal, and I still want to be here. We could be in the heart of London with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named flying over our rooftop every night and I would still want to be there with him. And you and Regulus as well! You're family, and Regulus is with you, which makes him family, too. If family can't be with one another and rely on each other, what's left?"

Lenna smiled. Though gentle and sweet, Grace had some backbone too, and Lenna liked that. "You're talking as though you and Cal are already married," she said, smiling a little. Grace blushed a delicate pink.

"Oh…well, I…" she mumbled.

Lenna grinned. "I'm rather certain that's his intention, Grace."

"I mean, he hasn't said it specifically, but with the house and the extra rooms and everything…"

Lenna smiled. "Yeah."

"He's taking things slow though, so we can get to know one another for sure since everything happened so fast. And that's really big of him, since, well, my family's very traditional and I won't…you know…before I'm married." She blushed again.

Lenna stared at her. "Really? No sex yet?"

Grace was very pink but replied composedly, "No. You see, I was raised Catholic and—"

"A Catholic witch," Lenna giggled. "How does that even work?"

"It's made to work in Ireland," Grace replied, smiling despite herself. "My parents always just used to say when questioned about it "He makes all kinds." In the Hebrew Scriptures witchcraft refers to mostly to women who use spoken spells to injure people, and in the New Testament it refers to murderers who use potions to kill others. None of which my family and I do, of course! But it denounces using the gifts one is given for evil."

"What about 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'?" Lenna inquired gently. "And Revelations condemns all sorcerers to hell." Personally, she had little tolerance for Christianity and more particularly Catholicism; too much evil had been done in their name of their god, and their Bible preached a lot of intolerance.

Grace was surprised by her knowledge. "You're quite right. But the only magic-doers who would give anyone a reason to denounce them are the evil-doers. Plus, back then magic was feared and hated—it's only natural Muggles would warn each other against it since as far as they knew, it only wrought pain. But Lenna, your knowledge is impressive—I know Cal's never picked up a Bible in his life."

Len shrugged. "Curiosity. I've studied most of the major Muggle religions. It does a lot of explain why they war with one another."

Grace's eyes were sad. "Yes, that is true. But I was raised believing in how the accepting and forgiving love and grace of the Lord brings people together and works good. See it as a philosophy and not a religion, perhaps, if you want to."

Lenna nodded. "We all need something to believe in and work for, that's sure. But if your family is so traditional and you're living with Cal, what do your parents think is—y'know—goin' on there?"

Grace looked a little sheepish. "They believe me to be studying in an all-girl's dorm," she replied. "And I _am_ studying, that part isn't a lie."

Lenna laughed heartily. "Good for you. So one day you're going to go home married, are you?"

"Oh _no_," Grace exclaimed as if this were a scandal. "They deserve to be at the wedding! It would break my mother's heart not to see it, and my sister Marie would be the most beautiful bridesmaid."

"You have a sister?"

"Three," Grace replied, nodding. "No brothers, just girls. My sister Adrienne is married and living in Ireland, and my younger sister Marie is 18 and Joy is 14."

"Blimey. What was that like, growing up with a pack of girls?"

Grace smiled shrewdly. "Tiring. We fought a lot. But we also shared a lot. Can't say I'm not glad to be out of the house and out of school with them. I do miss them, though, don't get me wrong, but it makes it sweeter coming back and seeing them when I've been away for a while."

Lenna smiled and then the boys opened the back door with a flourish.

"Breakfast is served!" Cal called out, and out came Regulus levitating all the dishes with his wand. They set them carefully out on the table, handed out plates and utensils, and everyone helped themselves. "Lenna gets the first muffin, seeing as it's her birthday," Cal said, serving her a large, delicious-looking blueberry muffin.

"Oh why thank you," Lenna replied, grinning, as she took it. "These look amazing, Grace."

"Thanks," she said. "The boys seem to have done okay with everything else."

"I made the sausage," Regulus said, sounding proud of himself. "I even flipped them and pushed them around with the metal thing and everything."

"Well done," Lenna giggled. "We'll make a chef out of you yet."

"_Doubt it_," Cal coughed, and Reg smacked his fist into Cal's shoulder with a mock-glare. Lenna had pulled off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it in her mouth and had to cover her mouth as she laughed.

…


	17. CHAPTER 17: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Author's Note: The mid 30s Celsius is like the mid 90s Fahrenheit.

…

**CHAPTER 17: HAPPY BIRTHDAY  
><strong>

…

"We must embrace pain and use it as fuel for our journey."

-Kenji Miyazawa

…

"**W**ell," Cal sighed happily, sitting back in his chair after they had all finished breakfast. "Lenna, Regulus…I hope you brought your swimsuits. We're going to the coast today."

Lenna turned and punched Regulus in the shoulder. "_I told you_!" she exclaimed as Regulus laughed and Cal and Grace stared. "You laughed at me, but I _called_ it!"

"Looks like I'm going naked," Regulus sniggered.

"I don't think any of us need to see that," Cal replied, grinning at his sister's laughing outburst, though he wasn't in on their joke. "I can lend you a pair of trunks. Grace needs to get some picnic food packed, but after that we're headed to the beach."

"_Yay_!" Lenna exclaimed, bouncing up and down in her seat like a little kid. "It's like when Dad used to take us in the summer! I'm so _excited_!" She jumped up and bounced on the soles of her feet like she couldn't stand still. "I'm gonna get changed right now! And put on sunscreen! Calun, I love you, I love you so much!" She dove down to plant a kiss on his head before scampering inside, beaming.

"Haha," Regulus chuckled. "Nicely done there, Cal."

"I know what she likes," Cal replied, looking pleased.

"I have to pack the goodies," Grace said, getting up from the table as well. Cal followed her lead.

"We'll clean up, love, while you pack," he said.

"Thanks!" she called over her shoulder as she went into the house.

Regulus laughed again. The excitement was infectious. He hadn't felt so happy, so relaxed, so at home in what seemed like forever.

"Dad's meeting us there," Cal said in a low voice to Regulus as they cleaned plates with magic and stacked them with their wands to take back inside. "It's a surprise for Len. But I think we should keep this Death Eater thing from him. For his own good, yeah?"

"Right," Regulus replied, nodding. He slipped out his wand and pressed it to his Dark Mark, saying a spell to conceal it on his skin. The Mark slowly faded into only an odd shadow on his smooth skin.

"Thanks." Cal levitated his share of the dishes in front of him

"It's been forever since I've been to the coast," Regulus said as he followed behind Cal with the rest of the dishes.

"Yeah? Well, 'bout time you got a chance to go again."

"It's getting hot!"Lenna trilled from the living room. "It'll be in the mid thirties!" She ran into the guest bedroom yelling "Swim suit!"

Regulus went into the guest bedroom shutting the door behind him and stood watching as Lenna stripped to change into her blue bikini. She shot him a look.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Regulus grinned and came up to her, pulling her slim waist against his. "Immensely," he replied before kissing her gently. Lenna melted against him and kissed him back with a sweet passion. She laid her head on his shoulder after a loving few moments and sighed contentedly.

"I love you," she murmured.

"As I love you," Regulus replied softly. He leaned over to pick up her bikini top from the bed. "Need help tying it?"

"Yes, thank you," she said, putting it on and then tying the straps around her neck as Regulus tied the two straps in the back together.

"You look beautiful," he complimented when she'd pulled on her bikini bottoms and was pulling on shorts over them.

Lenna smiled at him. "Thank you. As always, you are not so bad yourself."

Regulus smiled. A knock came at their door and Regulus opened it.

"Trunks for ya," Cal said, handing Regulus a black wad of material. "You can shrink and refit them magically as you need."

"Thanks," Regulus replied and shut the door when Cal nodded and left. Regulus pulled off his sweatpants he'd used as pajamas and pulled the trunks on. They needed to be shrunk, but he fixed them with a quick spell. He pulled a clean white T-shirt on and then was ready to go.

When Grace was all packed and ready, Regulus was putting sunscreen on Lenna's lower back. Cal was in a pair of red swim trunks and a cream-colored T-shirt and Grace was in a light blue summer dress; her bathing suit straps could be seen around her neck.

"Ready to go?" Cal asked them. Regulus rubbed the last bit of sunscreen into Lenna's skin and replied, "Ready, mate."

"Brilliant." Cal led them all out of the house, locking it with a wave of his wand behind them, and once off of the driveway, took Grace's hand. Since Grace's other hand was holding the handle of a picnic basket, Lenna took hold of her arm, and held her other hand for Regulus. Once they were all together, Cal Apparated them all away.

The beach was green and stony until that became smooth, tan sand stretching along the gentle blue-gray water. A tall figure in a maroon T-shirt and dark, faded jeans stood with his back toward them, staring out at the gentle waves. There was a beat of silence as Lenna stared then exclaimed, "_Dad_?"

The man turned around and grinned ear to ear. The group walked toward him as Lenna bounded forward and threw her arms around him. Regulus supposed Lenna must look more like her mother, because except for her eyes he found little resemblance between her and her father. Cal had his build and some of his face shape, but both his and Lenna's hair was much darker than their father's dirty honey blond now liberally streaked with gray. He wasn't heavyset, but like his son, had developed a bit of a paunch. He had scruffy gray hair along his jaw but no mustache, and had the same stocky shoulders and wide hands as Cal.

The man hugged his daughter close, whispering something into her ear with his eyes closed, and then let her go as the others reached them. Lenna's father's eyes were for Regulus first before greeting his son and his girlfriend and he reached out a hand.

"Walter Albeney," he said, shaking Regulus' hand firmly. Walter's hands were rougher than Regulus had expected, and his own felt childlike in the man's grip.

"Regulus Arcturus. Pleasure to meet you, Walter."

Meanwhile, Lenna was ridiculing Cal for not telling her their dad was going to be there. Cal chuckled and introduced Grace to his father as well. Grace smiled charmingly as Walter squeezed her hand gently.

As they spent time in the sand and waves together and sat out on a wide blanket eating the wonderful food and drink that Grace had packed, Regulus grew to like Lenna's father more than he thought he would. The way Lenna had spoken about him, Walter had sounded like a nice but odd and scatter-brained old man. In reality he was soft-spoken and gentle, but yet in his gentleness was a strength that he could certainly exercise if the situation called for it. He was the kind of man that Regulus could imagine staying up at night rocking his baby daughter to sleep with one large hand holding her. A man who preferred to listen to a conversation as opposed to making it. But Walter wasn't silent; he laughed loudly and teased his two children with a childlike sense of humor. There were no pointed questions about Regulus and no inquiring after his background or family, but Regulus often felt Walter's eyes on him; a steady, heavy gaze.

Grace got her camera out and snapped photos laughingly. When they were in the ocean, Lenna raced Regulus out to the buoy and beat him fair and square. They played like little kids in the sand, building things that they knocked down, and burying parts of each other. When they were dry, they brushed the sand off of themselves and everyone sat down together. Cal passed around some beer and they toasted to Lenna. Grace removed a cake from the small basket—which could not have fit a quarter so much food if it had not been magical. It was a small, rich chocolate cake with a wonderful buttercream frosting and intricate iced chocolate designs on it.

As the setting sun cast the western sky into an array of brilliant colors that reflected stunningly on the water, Lenna and Regulus walked the beach barefoot and hand in hand. The sun was only a sliver on the ocean's horizon when Regulus stopped, taking her hands and pulling her gently against his chest. They kissed gently; a tender touch that had both of them deliciously longing for more.

"Happy birthday," Regulus whispered softly into her ear and suddenly there was a small black velvet case in his hand. The sun slipped below the horizon and quite suddenly the black case dropped to the sand as Regulus' eyes flashed and his hand clapped to the Mark now ignoring its concealment charm and twisting and burning with dark color on his left forearm.

"I have to go," Regulus groaned through his teeth.

"Are you in—?"

"I'm so sorry." With a black smoky Disapparition as if fading into the air itself, Regulus was gone.

"…trouble," Lenna finished in a murmur. She brushed the sudden tears from her cheeks that had sprung up without her permission and reached down to pick up the velvet case. As she brushed off the sand, she saw her name inscribed in elegant silver lettering on the top.

_For Lenna,_

_My heart's shelter and soul's companion. _

_Across distance, time, and through disguises, lies, _

_and hardship, I have always and will _

_always love you._

Lenna opened the case and inside rested a breathtakingly beautiful silver necklace on which hung a small silver heart accented with deep red rubies along one side. She turned it over and saw skillfully inscribed in black along the other side on the back were the words _Amor vincit omnia_.

Love conquers all.

She stood there holding the case for a long time before slipping the necklace out and fastening it around her neck; it hung down, a gentle weight not too low or high. Cal and Grace who'd been canoodling down the beach on the blanket reached her as she fastened the necklace, and her father, who'd noticed Regulus' departure from a ways away also came up to her, saying, "Now where'd he have to go in such a hurry?"

Lenna ignored his words, her fist tight around the heart on its chain as she stared at the waves and the west's fading colors. Cal put a hand on her back.

"Where's Reg, Len?" he asked quietly. "Did something happen? What are you holding there?"

"He had to go," she replied, still not looking away from the waves and sky. "Something urgent."

"Huh," Walter muttered, sounding disapproving. "You'd think he could've at least finished out your birthday and said goodbye to us all—"

"Hush," Lenna said sharply. Walter closed his mouth, looking confused and now a bit worried.

"What's that case there, Len?" Cal asked softly.

"A present."

"Did something bad happen between you too?"

"No, of course not."

"Is he going to be alight?"

Lenna felt herself nodding, keeping up pretenses to keep her father from worrying. "Why wouldn't he be?"

Cal slung an arm around her and they headed back up the beach.

…


	18. CHAPTER 18: THE BROTHERS BLACK

**CHAPTER 18: THE BROTHERS BLACK  
><strong>

…

"Battle not with monsters lest you become one."

-Friedrich Nietzsche

…

**I**t was amazing how the shame and sadness for having to leave Lenna in that way cancelled out all his fear. Normally when summoned Regulus was boiling inside with terror, wild thoughts of the Dark Lord discovering his secrets and requiring his death flashing through his mind, but when his body rematerialized behind a large stone wall and he heard yelling and the electric crackling crash of curses and hexes hitting surfaces, there was no fear.

"Black!" hissed Dolohov, who was struggling up from where it looked like a curse had thrown him against the stone wall. "Took you long enough! What the fuck are you _wearing_?"

Regulus immediately conjured his cloak and mask; the two materialized on his body like the black smoke that had brought him here. "What's going on?" he hissed, ducking as he moved forward to help pull Dolohov up. They moved behind the stone wall as curses crashed around them.

"'_What's going on_?' Where've you been, boy?" he bellowed. "We found one of the Order hideouts—the Bones' place—and just now attacked—most of the Order's been showing up and we need everybody we can get! Let's go!" He wrenched Regulus out into the open with him. Regulus discovered they had been behind the front stone wall of the property, and he took only a moment to assess the surroundings before diving into the battle.

The house was a decently-sized manor on an expanse of oddly dark-purple grass and looked rather like a pyramid in the way floors had been added to the house—there were at least five levels. Half of the second floor looked to be on fire and the place, both inside and out, was swarming with friend and foe. Regulus watched as the young Carrows teamed up on Order member Moody and backed him across the lawn—he could recognize their cloaked and masks figures by the way they worked together. Dolohov joined Crabbe—recognizable by his mangy brown hair—in dueling another. With nothing to do in the yard, Regulus ran into the house.

There had not been a huge battle in a while. The Death Eater way was to work in the shadows and pick Order members and other agitators off one by one. But with a hideout cracked wide open, there was no other way but dueling.

Things were shattering and scorch marks covered the walls. Regulus almost tripped over a Death Eater lying face-down in the entryway and, glancing around, he rolled him over with a foot. Regulus winced. Wilkes laid dead, bloody wounds in his chest and his face and neck sickeningly purple—evidence of a powerful strangling curse. He stepped past the body and jumped carefully through the wreckage of what might once have been a living room. He heard the deep growling yell of Travers from the next room and ran in, brandishing his wand. He knocked the ragged-looking young Remus Lupin into the off-white kitchen wall. The young man made contact with a brutal crunch, and, not knowing if the blow had been fatal or not, Regulus leapt after Travers as the husky man ran up the stairs to another level.

The fighting was intense. Regulus assisted Rosier, Rookwood, Nott, and his cousin Bella and her husband and her husband's bother on the second and third floors. Chunks of the ceiling fell and curses left marks, flames, and blew up furniture and possessions as if small bombs were being let off. Regulus took up a duel with young Sturgis Podmore after Podmore sent Macnair fleeing, doubled over in pain. Regulus began dueling nonverbally, and this terrified the young Order member. A fire blazed to one side of Regulus as he leapt through the level, pursuing Podmore's flight. He caught him on the top of a flight of stairs where Severus was standing over a twitching Caradoc Dearborn and Regulus hexed Podmore before throwing him down the stairs. Distracted by this fight, Snape stepped away from unconscious Dearborn and they both looked down, staring, as Goyle came racing thunderously up toward them.

"Dumbledore's here!" he exclaimed, shoving them aside to barrel past in fright.

"_Coward_!" snarled Regulus. "You're going to get us all killed!" Immediately he began work on an enchantment to block the ability of an Order member to climb the stairs; Severus Snape helped him so it was done more quickly. Lucius came running up behind them and panted "_Dumbledore's_—oh you're already—well done—I've blocked the other staircase—" And he took off again as an ear-splitting crash was heard from the floor above and the crackle of curses in the air prickled the back of Regulus' neck as he finished the strong enchantment.

At the bottom of the stairs, Albus Dumbledore ran into view, far too nimble for his apparent age. Severus yelped uncharacteristically and took a few steps back. Regulus, however, stared calmly down at the man who mere months ago had been his Headmaster. A man whose blue eyes had stared into his with the patient but disciplining gaze of a father. Dumbledore met Regulus' gaze for a long time—or what seemed like a long time to Regulus. He could see in that gaze all the disappointments in the world and his heart constricted painfully. _It's not my fault_! he wanted to scream. _I know I'm on the wrong side! I know!_

Dumbledore did not try the stairs as if he knew already he could not mount them, but Bellatrix's gleeful shriek upon finding the old man echoed as she leapt into view, and her duel with the Headmaster progressed out of sight. James Potter and the McKinnon woman ran into view the same way Dumbledore had, and Severus gave a snarl, leaping over the railing and landing with magical help on the lower floor, already attacking Potter from midair as Avery ran across the landing and immediately engaged McKinnon. The roof shook with a powerful crash and a bellow. Regulus turned on his heel and continued up the staircase to the next level as Severus streaked across the landing below, fleeing from Potter who had Peter Pettigrew helping him now.

The fourth floor was ominously quiet when Regulus stepped onto the wood flooring, noting scorch marks in the walls and what looked like a destroyed potions room hissing and smoking, some of its spilled contents burning holes in the floorboards. He stepped past the room and into a bedroom and whipped up his wand against the figure standing over a destroyed master bed that had collapsed on both the Carrows.

Sirius Black whirled to face the intruder, but Regulus deflected his curse with a nonverbal Shield Charm and did not retaliate, staring into the gray eyes that were exact replicas of his own. He lowered his wand. Sirius's eyes followed the movement with surprise flickering in them. It was a foolish gesture, one both knew should not be shown mercy, but Sirius' eyes darted back up knowing the Death Eater before him could only be his brother. His wand involuntarily twitched downward.

Regulus pulled off his mask with a swipe of his hand, reducing the sliver hardness to smoke. "Brother," he greeted softly, nodding once, before turning to leave.

"Wait," Sirius said and Regulus stopped in the doorframe, looking back at the young man he'd grown up with. The one he looked so similar to now they could be mistaken for one another.

"You've gotten taller," Sirius commented. His face was strained with bitter disappointment. Regulus closed his eyes briefly. He hadn't spoken to his brother in a full year—maybe even a year and a half. If he didn't take the moments now, he might never have another chance. From the doorframe, Regulus told him, voice low, "Sirius, you must know this. I regret it all. I was foolish and blind. I fear that I may not have another chance to speak to you, and I want you to know that I am sorry I didn't have the strength to follow in your footsteps." With a grimace, he turned away.

"R-Regulus, wait," Sirius said, his usually-arrogant and commanding voice shocked and affected. He attempted a weak smirk. "Are you really my brother? I mean, the Reg I knew—"

"The Regulus you knew has become a man," Regulus replied quietly. Sirius looked at a loss for words. He gazed at Regulus' sad gray eyes and calm expression, his tall, muscular frame and messy raven hair. He took him in from head to foot and realized that truly he didn't know the man in front of him. Even the very depths of Regulus' gray eyes—his same eyes—were unfamiliar.

"Yes…I can see," he replied just as quietly. "We can keep you safe," he offered in a whisper.

Regulus smiled wearily. "You can't even keep your own safe. I have made my choices and selected my fate. Do I wish I could go back? Of course I do. But I will live and die with this life I made for myself. My only solace is that it probably will not be long."

"What is that supposed to mean?" his brother growled in an undertone.

A crash sounded from above.

"I need to leave before someone finds us," Regulus said quickly, "but before I do, there's something I need to ask you. Is Lily Potter doing alright?"

Sirius' eyes immediately narrowed with murderous suspicion. "Fine," he replied in a clipped tone.

Regulus nodded in thanks. "I have a friend worried about her, but since she's in hiding they haven't heard from her. Asked me to ask."

Sirius looked Regulus levelly in the eye. "She's into baking at the moment—breads and cakes and such. And she cut her long hair just last week. It's just past her shoulders now."

Regulus smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Who asked?" Sirius demanded.

"Severus Snape, of course. You know he's always been fond of her."

Sirius blinked in surprise. "The pissworm. If he was so _concerned_—"

"Shut it. You're such a git when it comes to him," Regulus sighed. "He's not all that bad."

Sirius snorted, but as another crash resounded above them, one of the Carrows awoke with a grunt, and Regulus wrenched open the door to rejoin the fight, slipping out his wand again and meeting his brother's eyes a last time before taking off down the hall. He almost lost his footing as the worst crash yet shook the entire floor from above, and Regulus pressed himself against the wall as the fire burning below crumbled a good portion of the floor. He Apparated across the gap and up the stairs to the final and fifth floor where a vicious battle was taking place. Rodolphus and Rabastan, two formidable Death Eaters, were dueling the skilled Edgar Bones and what looked like his oldest son. A younger boy and what Regulus assumed to be Bones' wife lay dead upon the scorched floor. He stood, frozen in the doorway as crashes and blows not only from the battle in front of him, but from Order members desperately trying to enter the sealed-off room echoed in his ears.

It could only have been a moment he was frozen, however, because he Apparated to the other end of the room, and was about to assist Roldolphus with Edgar as he was required to, when Edgar suddenly screamed in a way that made Regulus want to cringe with the mere pain of hearing that kind of agony. Wounded Rabastan had just managed to hit Edgar's eldest with the Killing Curse, and the boy dropped to the floor like a broken marionette.

Things seemed to happen slowly through Edgar's scream.

Sirius appeared in the doorway but could not get through the enchantments placed to protect against Order member help.

Edgar yelled "_AVADA KEDAVRA!_" at the top of his lungs at Rabastan who was not quick enough to deal with it.

Knowing Rabastan's poor reflexes, Regulus cast a protection spell at him that deflected Edgar's beast of a curse.

The rebounding streak of emerald green light blew the ceiling off the room in an explosion of debris.

Edgar's abandonment of his own safety in favor of attempted revenge allowed Rodolphus to destroy him.

Enchantments broken by the Killing Curse's deflection, Order members from the air and Sirius from the doorway descended upon them.

Curses came at Regulus from all sides which his weaker nonverbal Sheild Charm could not stand up against, and he screamed as pain rent his body. His head was thrown back so that all he could see was the night sky above and the brilliant stars of it. It was calm, still, vast and ancient, while the world was a pinprick of chaos inside of it. Regulus closed his eyes as the most intense pain he'd ever felt seemed to be ripping his body apart. There was so much pain, there was suddenly numbness. His ears dulled so that the thunderous noise, screaming, and crackle of curses and spells fell away.

Regulus stared up at the sky without seeing it. All that pulsed in his brain was Lenna and how he had never said his goodbyes properly. Guilt at leaving her alone constricted his heart. He hadn't been doing anything properly. He'd give anything for just one more minute with her. For some closure. To hold her face between his hands one more time. The stars began to blur and Regulus blinked slowly, realizing this seemingly endless moment had really only been a few seconds.

Severus Snape's face appeared through the chaos, smoke, and haze of pain. His bony hand seized Regulus' wrist and the world blurred away as the triumphant leers of Death Eaters and the furious, grief-stricken cries of Order members blurred away with it.

…


	19. CHAPTER 19: IN THE BACKGROUND

**CHAPTER 19: IN THE BACKGROUND  
><strong>

…

"Of all the pains, the greatest pain

Is to love, but love in vain."

-Abraham Cowley

…

"**H**e saved your life, the least you can do is let him use your bed," Severus muttered sourly. Rabastan was a dirty moron and Regulus had been too kind to protect him in Severus' opinion. "And remind me again how I got stuck playing healer?"

"Would you rather be back there on cleanup duty?" Rodolphus growled threateningly from the doorway, walking into the room and dragging his right leg slightly.

Severus made no reply, but turned back to healing Regulus' bloody curse wounds.

"Mulciber's worse, you know," Rodolphus growled to Severus and gesturing toward the floor beside the bed where a barely-recognizable mass of twitching scorch-marked limbs lay.

"Mulciber was cursed, but it's not life threatening. It'll just take time to figure out the proper counter to cure him. Regulus was victim to most of the Order's fury—thanks to your brother—and is in a bad way."

"He's bleeding all over my bed—"

"Rabastan," Rodolphus silenced his brother with an uncontestable tone. "He saved your ruddy life."

Rabastan seemed to keep forgetting that. He crossed his arms with an ugly expression. After a minute he asked his brother, "Is the place clean? Did we just lose Wilkes?"

"Found Hawthorn dead in the rubble, too. Dumbledore did some damage to Bella—I'd never seen her look so—ashen. Nott and Crabbe are both bad—Lucius is taking care of them at his place. But no other casualties. Nott was pretty close—I heard the Dark Lord himself had to work to save him. Of their number, Bones and his family, of course, and a younger woman I didn't recognize are confirmed dead. I saw Lupin, Podmore, Fenwick, and a few others not moving as I passed, but I dunno if they're dead or not. The Dark Lord is very pleased," Rodolphus ended, smirking with self-satisfaction.

Rabastan chuckled. "It was a victorious night."

"We outnumber them is the only reason," Severus muttered. Rabastan shot him a lofty scowl. "Hand me that orchid elixir from the potions kit," Snape asked of him, meeting his scowl with an indifferent air. Rabastan glared at him, his expression ugly.

"Who are you to give me orders, you slimy—"

"_Rabastan_," Rodolphus snarled. "_Do as he says_!"

Shocked at his brother's outburst, Rabastan complied. Snape was surprised at Rodolphus' support of him, though he supposed it must only be because his brother now owed Regulus his life. Generally the brothers were as close in thought and action as the Carrows, but Severus realized when put to the test, Rodolphus had the real power between the two.

Severus continued to heal Regulus to the best of his ability, neglecting his other patients until there was nothing more he could to for his first. Regulus was the only of these people whom Severus respected, and was therefore much more worth his time. When all he could do was let Regulus recover naturally, he moved on to Mulciber and worked for fifteen minutes before he was able to undo the curse. Next he worked on Rodolphus' leg and on the Carrows' wounds who came in later.

Mulciber was moved out eventually, but Regulus remained while Rabastan took up sleeping quarters elsewhere. Rodolphus and Bellatrix were asleep somewhere in the house as Severus awoke again to hourly apply Essence of Dittany to Regulus. He was dabbing a particularly nasty cursed gash along the top of Regulus' shoulder when there was an echoing _crack_ and Severus turned to face Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord walked over to look down upon his young unconscious servant.

"Well done with Mulciber, Severus," Voldemort commented in a low, velvety yet cold voice.

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus replied quietly, inclining his head in humble submission.

Voldemort removed Regulus' wand from his cloak and preformed the spell to reveal Regulus' wand's previous activity. They both watched as a ghostly tip hovered before them and sent curses at Lupin, Podmore, assisted against others, and finally shielded Rabastan from Edgar Bones' Killing Curse.

"Hmm," Voldemort hummed, sounding pleased as he replaced his servant's wand. "If he should die," he said gesturing to Regulus, "I will be irritated." He was then gone.

Severus pursed his lips with a dry expression. If Voldemort had thought Regulus in danger of dying, he would have seen to his recovery himself. He turned back and continued to dab at Regulus. As he did so, he couldn't help but notice he had sand in his hair. Severus leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin absently. Was Regulus Black keeping secrets?

He'd gone to school with him and had a better insight into his character than most. Regulus had always been a reserved young man, and his haughty, brooding silences had always been assumed to be ones of malice. His disinterest in girls was thought to be because he thought himself too good for the Hogwarts riffraff. But Severus had on more than one occasion caught Regulus doing something uncharacteristically kind. Regulus tended to gravitate toward company less cruel and selfish, and Severus had seen enough to know he'd had feelings for Lenna Albeney their sixth and seventh years at school.

Now that Severus thought about it, it was difficult wheedling out the unique parts of Regulus that once in a while slipped into view. It was as if the young man had molded himself to be what was expected. Unthreatening, stable, and in the background. He was just as dark and merciless as the rest of the Death Eaters, just as intelligent as the best of them, and had an impressive leg up because he didn't seem to give a flying fuck about anything or anyone. He was like this stone statue in their midst; unreadable, but assumed unreadable because there was nothing deeper to read. Useful but uninteresting.

But Severus remembered the many times Regulus had subtly rescued him from the taunting of his relatives. He remembered Regulus' conflicted feelings, arguments, and upset silences while staring at nothing after winter break seventh year. He remembered the way he had thanked his house elf and the way his eyes used to soften to shiny gray butter as he watched Albeney unconsciously tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear as she stirred a potion in the late evening, the dungeon lit only by candlelight.

He'd never bothered to think about all these things together like this before because Regulus played the part so well. It was too obvious that he cared for nothing—that so little affected him emotionally. It didn't seem possible it could all be an act. Regulus was reliable, cruel when necessary, and just tonight had protected his own—the Death Eaters.

Confusing.

Severus was drawn from his contemplation when Regulus stirred. His eyes screwed up in pain, he blinked around and at Severus.

"Where…?" he mumbled.

"The Lestrange's," Severus answered him. "The battle went well."

"Severus…how am I?"

"You'll live."

"Any…loss of limbs or…anything?"

Severus cracked a smile. "You'll have a few nasty scars, but that's it."

He hadn't noticed Regulus move his hand into his robes to hold his wand, but Regulus' eyes fluttered closed and suddenly there was an arctic fox patronus in the room with them. He sent it off with a twitch of his wand and it faded away.

"A fox, Regulus?" Severus questioned, smirking. "I expected something a bit more…"

"Stuff it," Regulus snapped back thickly.

"Who'd you send it to?"

Regulus ignored the question and muttered, "Rabastan _owes_ me."

"Yes, we all know. Although Rabastan seems to want to forget it."

"Always was a ruddy bastard," Regulus sighed wearily, closing his eyes. "Sev?"

"Don't call me that," Severus growled through his teeth.

Again, Regulus ignored his words. "Albeney never answered the owl, but I spoke to my brother tonight," Regulus said softly, groaning a little when the pain of his body particularly got to him. "If you swear not to let anyone know I still speak to him, I will never tell a soul about your love for Lily."

Severus seemed at a loss for words. He pinched his lips together and his face seemed to puff up for a minute. But his desperation for news seemed to overcome his mortification of admitting to what Regulus had assumed. Finally he growled, "Very—very well. You have news of her?"

"She's doing just fine. Hiding safely. She just cut her hair and it's about at her shoulders now. She's been baking a lot. Likes making bread and cakes. Sirius says they're good."

Severus was staring away from Regulus, his black eyes shiny but not tearful. He was silent for a minute and Regulus gritted his teeth in pain which he had begun to more clearly feel all over his body.

"Thank you," Severus said softly and it was the last thing Regulus heard before he lost consciousness again. With Regulus out cold, Severus allowed tears of relief to trickle down his cheeks and the pain of being separated from Lily to ravage his heart. That his life could be so separated from hers…it was cruelly wrong. That he wouldn't know when she cut her hair, when she moved homes… That he couldn't be there to take care of her when she grieved the loss of friends or experience life's small joys with her… The pain of it was overwhelming.

So many times he had allowed himself to harbor the dream that if Potter were killed, he could take his place by Lily's side. But her happiness was more important to him than his own, and he knew the loss of Potter would be a tragedy to her…he could never willfully put her through that pain. He wished she had understood; he wished he had known the words when they were still in school to make her understand that he loves her more deeply than Potter ever could.

But those affections were not returned and would never be. One loves whom one loves, and she loved Potter. He knew she did, no matter if he deserved it or not. Severus almost sank into a hole of self-pity, then resurfaced, hating himself for his weakness. Oh poor Severus, nothing ever goes right, nothing is ever easy, he never gets what he wants. It had made him strong and capable, and he knew there were most certainly people worse off than he.

Severus leaned back in the chair, his eyes hooding with tiredness. As he nodded off, his mind drifted to memories of Lily and he sank under the power of her emerald green eyes.

…


	20. CHAPTER 20: WORTH FIGHTING FOR

**CHAPTER 20: WORTH FIGHTING FOR  
><strong>

…

"A woman's weapon is her tongue."

-Hermione Gingold

…

"**I** made you some cocoa," Grace said gently, handing a warm mug to Lenna.

They had parted with their dad on the beach hours ago and had returned home. It was quite late, but no one seemed to be going to sleep anytime soon. Cal was putting things away in the kitchen as Grace took a seat beside Lenna who was staring distantly into the fire in their hearth.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the mug and taking a small sip. She got some whipped cream on her upper lip and Grace smiled.

"Your necklace is beautiful," Grace complimented now that she could see the handsome charm on its chain.

"I'm quite fond of it, too," Lenna replied, trying for a smile. Grace patted her leg and Lenna took a bracing breath and another sip of cocoa. Cal came out into the room, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He dropped down on Lenna's other side and took one of her hands in both of his comfortingly.

"Any idea why he was summoned?" he asked.

Lenna shook her head.

"I'm sure he's fine. They don't just kill off their own."

She nodded again.

"She doesn't want to talk about it, Cal," Grace murmured.

"No, actually it's nice to talk about it with someone," Lenna replied gently. "It's been hard, dealing with it all on my own. The disappearances, the worry—cycles of relief and anxiety. I'm going to go prematurely gray." She tried for a smile again.

Cal chuckled. "Well you have a second home here as I hope you know."

She nodded. "Thank you," she murmured. "I'm sorry the end of the night had to be difficult for both of you and so confusing to Dad."

"Aw, it's fine. Things happen. And we had a good day."

"Yes," Lenna replied. "Yes, it was an amazing day. Thank you so much, both of you."

Grace put an arm around her and squeezed her gently. "You're more than welcome, sweetheart."

The clock above their mantle struck once, twice…eleven times. They feel into silence. Out of seemingly nowhere, a silvery white arctic fox bounded into their midst and stopped in front of Lenna, staring at her unwaveringly.

"There was a battle," came Regulus' strained voice from the fox's mouth. "I'm safe and recovering. I'm sorry for having to leave. Please apologize to your family for me. I love you." The fox then faded away in wisps of silvery white.

Lenna said nothing but her shoulders visibly loosened and she hung her head, closing her eyes in relief.

"Thank god," Grace murmured.

"I see he's taken your fox," Cal commented, smiling a little.

Lenna snorted softly. "Oh, because I'm sure yours is so much more manly, bluebird boy."

Cal chuckled.

"I have his black bear now," Grace giggled.

"A battle," Cal repeated, humor dissipating from his face as he thought about Regulus' words. "Maybe there will be something in the _Prophet_ about it tomorrow."

"Doubt it. You-Know-Who controls most of the newspaper and other media outlets through the Ministry these days," Lenna replied darkly.

"Are you certain?" Grace asked, looking shocked and bewildered. "The Ministry? But it's what's fighting him!"

"No, the Order of the Phoenix is what's fighting him. The Ministry is You-Know-Who's tool to hold control over the wizarding people. Yes the fear he inspires and the Death Eaters he sends to do his bidding control a lot, but there would be a bigger rebellion if the threat were more than shadows. By controlling the Ministry without the wizarding public at large knowing about it, he controls what they are told and basically what they think about what they're told. It's ingenious, really. The world's magical pillar of stability, order, and safety is really rotted to the core, but the world continues to take a big old bite out of it every day."

"Why isn't the word being spread about this by those who know?" Cal demanded.

"Those who go shooting their mouths off are targeted by his Eaters," Lenna replied softly. "You two need to stay as low as possible. No risks. No nothing."

Cal opened his mouth looking ready to argue, but then his eyes landed on Grace and his mouth closed.

"You work for the _Prophet_, though," Cal said. "I read your article every week."

"I know," Lenna replied. "I'm one of their top columnists. But I never get to write about anything important." Her eyes sparkled. "Although I've been thinking of doing something with my articles—or at least one of them, as they'll put two of mine in if I write them. I work in the Prophet and hear most of everything that's really been going on, and it's been so frustrating to me that none of it actually gets in the paper. But if I work out a code with the Order, I could send them information through it every week without anyone but them knowing."

"Brilliant," Cal laughed. "That's brilliant, Len!"

"Wouldn't it be easier just to send owls?" Grace asked, looking apprehensive.

"Owls can so easily get apprehended," Cal replied. "I like Len's idea. It's fighting back right under the Ministry's nose."

"And if I write the article about something actually interesting and normal, no one would ever realize it's coded," Lenna added, grinning.

"It's still dangerous," Grace said softly. "You should talk to Regulus about it first. Anyone in the Order who knows of it could let it slip or give your name under torture or something and then they'd be after you."

"It's like Cal said," Lenna replied, looking away. "Some things are just worth fighting for."

Cal was quiet, rubbing his bristly jaw, and then growled suddenly, "You'd think there would be a way for Regulus to get out. If he didn't want to fight for You-Know-Who anymore. I bet the Order would protect him if he deflected."

"You-Know-Who is far too powerful, unfortunately. Pledging yourself to him is a sentence of either life-long servitude or death. The Order can't even protect themselves well enough from him—how could they protect Regulus? Especially if You-Know-Who wanted to kill him personally?"

"But couldn't you two disappear one day and go into hiding? You could go to the Falklands or something—someplace random where no one would ever be bothered to look. You and seven thousand sheep just being able to live your lives without fear."

Lenna pinched her lips together, her eyes pained. "You don't understand. It's not a matter of distance. The Dark Mark is like a tracer. As long as Regulus has it, You-Know-Who can always find him. And don't ask if there's a way to remove the Mark, because there isn't. I know. I researched it obsessively… With what I was able to read about what's known about You-Know-Who and his followers and with what Regulus has told me, I'm pretty much an expert now. How they operate, known and some unknown members… But I can never share any of it. It would so easily be traced back to me.

"Regulus and I have discussed it many times, and we both agree that unfortunately the best way to live as normally and happily as possible is for him to play the part of the Death Eater that he signed up for and live a double life—one with them and one with me. It's hard, Merlin knows. Painful and terrible, but I wouldn't give it up. Every stolen minute of time with him is worth it. And I know the risk—he could be dead tomorrow and so could I. But I won't leave him to safe my own life. The life I want is with him, no matter what that life looks like."

Cal and Grace were both quiet when she finished her small speech.

"Well," Cal said bracingly after a moment, "no one will ever be able to say you two aren't brave. I'd be out fighting with the Order if it wasn't for Gracie."

Grace locked eyes with him and shook her head slightly. "Don't you go anywhere, Calun. I'm not as strong as Lenna."

"I'm not so strong," Lenna said softly.

"Sweetie…" Grace soothed, wrapping her arms around her again.

Lenna sipped her cocoa. "I'd like to go to bed now," she murmured. Grace let her go so that she could stand up and go into the guest bedroom.

"Think she'll be alright?" Grace whispered worriedly to Cal, a gentle hand on his arm.

"She's dealt with the same before, I think," he replied. "Worse, I bet, when he can't get a patronus out and she's left wondering whether he's alright or not. I think she'll be okay. I'd love to wallop him for putting her through all this, but…I don't think he deserves it. I guess he's doing his best with what he has. He was a moron for getting involved in You-Know-Who's lot, but he knows it now and regrets it… I could see that much on his face upstairs. Nothing we can do but support both of them, I think," he sighed.

The two of them went up to bed. Lenna listened to their footsteps until they couldn't be heard and then she held a pillow to herself and buried her face in it as if it could burry all her problems with it.

…


	21. CHAPTER 21: NO MAN IN TOWN

Author's Note: I know _Beauty and the Beast_ was made in the '90s and this is supposed to be the '70s, but I am going to ignore that because I wrote this chapter before realizing that and I don't want to change it. ^_^

…

**CHAPTER 21: NO MAN IN TOWN  
><strong>

…

"You shall have joy, or you shall have power; you shall not have both."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

…

"**Y**ou can stay here as long as you want," Cal said firmly when Lenna began packing up on Sunday. "In fact, I think it's best. So you're not all alone."

"I have an article to write," Lenna replied. She'd been getting owls every few hours at Cal and Grace's house, all business-related, most of them useful information she'd been collecting so she could write a good article this week about the standard home garden of witches and wizards. She had letters from those with locally famous gardens as well as the average person and what their garden consists of. She had letters of advice from the experts she'd contacted, giving advice on what were some of the best things to grow, what were some of the worst, how to find space for a small garden in unlikely places, and how best to care for the temperamental but highly-profitable _Majorana hortensis_. The_ Daily Prophet_ had graciously given her the entirety of page 3.

"You can write it and send it in from here, can't you?" Cal replied. Lenna shrugged.

"I suppose. I'll have to get some of my materials from home, though."

"Does it have to be in by tomorrow?"

"Goodness, no," she answered. "It's going to be in the Saturday edition and has to be in by Wednesday to get edited. I like to finished things early though—so either today or tomorrow. I have an interview today, but we're using Mirrors and I can be anywhere for that."

"Well then, stay here a few more days, eh?" Cal said, unpacking some of her things as she watched him with an indulgent expression. "I have to be off to work tomorrow, but Grace is only has class part time, and she'll be back around 3 o'clock. We could all go out to eat."

"I'd rather stay either here or home," Lenna said softly. "You know, in case he…"

"Right," Cal replied, nodded. "That's true."

"But I can go to the store and make dinner while you and Grace are out tomorrow. I'll probably have the article done by today, so it'll be no problem."

"Good." Cal beamed. "Thank sounds good. Stay a while."

"Alright," Lenna relented. "I'll stop by home quick to get my things and then I'll be back."

…

Armed with a Quick Quotes quill, a list of questions, and her other copies of her other interviews and article subjects and photographs, Lenna propped up a small oval mirror onto the dining room table in front of her. The glass was a milky color and seemed to be swirling gently, though the glass was not moving. She checked her elegant silver wrist watch—a gift from her father when she came of age—and gazed expectantly at the glass.

After a minute or so, the Mirror's contents swirled and cleared to show an old man's face at his study. Lenna smiled and touched her wand tip to the Mirror in order to show herself to the interviewee as well.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Montegerry," she said brightly.

"And to you, Miss Albeney."

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"Of course. I'm flattered the _Prophet_ is showing an interest in Herbology," he said.

"Well, gardening _is_ the number one wizarding hobby," Lenna replied. "And people always love to hear what other people are doing. Gives them a template to compare."

"Yes, I imagine so. So. What is it you would like to know?"

Lenna smiled and began her interview with the famous herbologist. She'd interviewed regular people about their home gardens, people who think gardening is a waste of time and space, and now someone who has a passion for it and makes their living from it. Lenna's quill kept a transcript of the interview and also jotted down ideas and points Lenna wanted to be sure to remember to make in her article. The interviewing process can often be tedious, but Mr. Montegerry seemed to thoroughly enjoy the time they talked; Lenna had noticed that the elderly also had much more patience than the younger people she'd interviewed in the past. Montegerry used many terms Lenna had never heard before, however, and she often had to ask him for clarification. She learned a lot in the process, though, and when they were done speaking, she had all the information she needed to complete her article with flying colors.

She was curled up in the living room armchair dictating to her quill and piecing together a rough draft of her full article when Cal came in from outside and took up his woodworking on the couch near her. A well-groomed barn owl flew in the open window and hopped near Lenna as a bluebird flitted in after him and alighted on Cal's shoulder. Lenna ceased talking aloud to her quill and untied the note attached to the owl. The owl flapped to the arm of Lenna's chair and fixed its bright, accusing eyes on Grace.

Under the owl's disapproving gaze, Grace transformed back into a human sitting next to Calun with a tinkling chirp of a laugh.

"It's like an owlry in here now," Calun teased. "Who's this one from?"

"The office," Len replied with an amused expression on her face as she read the letter. "It's from Janet, my boss. She's checking up to make sure I'm in by Wednesday and telling me about Mathew Mclusky's face when he heard I got page three." She giggled. "And apparently he got a few Howlers this morning in the office. That bit he did on the rooms in the Leaky Cauldron…well, I warned him about not doing research and just going from impressions, but he never listens…"

Calun laughed. "I wondered if you get mail from people about your articles."

"I do, but they go to the office instead of finding me personally. I'll have a whole mail drawer full of them when I go in, I'm sure. I give my opinions on almost every piece I do, but generally I'm polite and positive with what I say so if people do write in, it isn't not usually to criticize, which is nice. It helps that I work hard to do all the research and more before I write about something—which has helped me come so far so quickly. Most of the—pardon me, but most of the _louts_ that write for the _Prophet_ don't bother knowing a jolt about the subject of their articles, and so obviously people don't respond as positively to them." She was writing a reply on the back of the letter as she spoke, and she tied it again to the owl's leg.

"Thank you—off you go," she prodded gently, and the owl flapped a few times, scattering some of Lenna's papers, before soaring out the window. Lenna continued where she'd left off with her article and Grace watched her, interested. When the evening fell and the air outside cooled, Cal set a small fire going in the grate and continued working the wood—which looked to be turning into a centaur—as Grace curled up next to him with a book. Lenna worked on revising her draft throughout the evening and it was an entertaining thing as she mostly looked as though she were talking to herself. When her drafts were tightened, she picked the copy up and read and re-read it, changing small things.

"There," she said finally, after watching her quill spell the last word. "That'll do." She swiped her quill from the air with a smile and began tidying the mess of papers with her wand.

"Happy with it?" Grace asked. "It sounded very good."

"It was sounding very repetitive," Cal teased. "'_The average witch or wizard's garden generally includes dittany, monkshood, sage, and rallowsweet, but sadly omits the easy-to-grow and highly useful calendula and the Bundrick Bulb_.'"

Lenna threw a piece of wadded-up parchment at him and he laughed.

"I'm in the mood for a movie," Cal said, putting his centaur aside and getting up. "How 'bout it?"

"A movie," Lenna repeated. "I haven't seen one in ages. But you don't have a television."

"Oh yes we do," Cal sniggered and flicked his wand at the bookshelf and grandfather clock that were against the wall opposite the couch. Grace laughed lightly.

"He likes his Muggle inventions, your brother."

"We grew up with a lot of Muggle influence," Cal justified, grinning, as the bookshelf and clock magically folded back to reveal an entertainment center with a large television and a cupboard bellow it full of a couple shelves of movies that Cal opened and rifled through.

"I'll make some popcorn," Grace offered, putting her book on the side table as she walked out to the kitchen.

"What d'ya feel like, Len?" Cal questioned.

"Something cute and light. Do you have _The Sword in the Stone_? I loved that movie when I was little."

"I don't think so, unfortunately," Cal replied, apologetic. "But we do have _Beauty and the Beast_—I remember you like that one. And I don't think Grace has seen it."

"Ooh, that sounds good. Only if I get to sing along with it. You have to join me in Gaston's song."

Calun laughed as he put the movie in and sung in a jokingly deep voice, "_No one's slick as Gaston—_"

"—_no one's quick as Gaston_—"

"—_no one's neck's as incredibly thick as Gaston! For there's no man in town __HALF __as manly_—"

Grace walked in with a bowl of popcorn and stared at him as Lenna finished laughingly "—_a pure, perfect paragon_!"

They cracked up and Grace shook her head, wondering at them. "What in the world was that?"

"You're going to find out," Lenna giggled, sticking her hand in the popcorn bowl as Grace sat down next to her. Cal put another log on the fire and then came to tuck in next to Grace as the movie began.

True to her words, Lenna sang to all the songs as well as she could remember, and Grace got invested in the story and Cal took the mickey out of her for crying at the end.

"Oh no Beast, don't die, Grace will save you…" he plead in jest. Grace elbowed him and he sniggered. As Belle wept over the Beast's body, there came a loud pounding at the front door.

…


	22. CHAPTER 22: REALIZATION

**CHAPTER 22: REALIZATION  
><strong>

…

"If two stand shoulder to shoulder against the gods,

Happy together, the gods themselves are helpless against them"

-Maxwell Anderson

…

**C**al was the first to react, jumping up and silenced the movie with a flick of his wand. Immediately he made for the hallway toward the front door, his entire demeanor different. He walked stiffly, wand up, and when he reached the door he did a quick charm to see through the wood from one side. He sucked in a breath and wrenched it open.

"Regulus!"

Already standing with her wand in front of her, Lenna sucked in a breath as well and crossed swiftly toward them.

"You look terrible, mate—here," Cal said quickly, putting an arm around Regulus to help support him. The young man looked torn apart and only recently and incompletely patched up. He was paler even than usual with bloodshot eyes and purple and blue marks coloring his skin. A zigzagging gash along the left side of his jaw and down onto his neck was crusted with dried blood.

"Thank you," Regulus said in a slightly strained but controlled voice. "I'm sorry if I gave you a fright. There was no other way in." He looked to Lenna who was staring at him with a carefully impassive face. Her eyes narrowed.

"What's your favorite Every Flavor Bean?"

"Caramel toffee," Regulus replied, smiling wearily. "Yours is toasted marshmallow."

Lenna moved fluidly forward to press against Regulus in a passionate but gentle embrace. She kissed his shoulder, his neck, his ear, his jaw while running gentle hands around and across his upper body. It was such a tender and wordlessly stirring reunion that Cal looked away, feeling it deserved privacy. Grace walked into the front hallway and gazed at Regulus' battle-worn figure with sadness.

"Goodness, Regulus, can't we fix you up…?"

"These are curse wounds, Grace," Regulus replied softly, not taking his eyes from Len. "They're not something a little Essence of Murtlap can heal. They'll take time. I was lucky to have someone very killed at spells do all they could for me after the battle." He cupped Lenna's face in his hands gently and brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. Lenna's eyes shone with moisture and she nuzzled into his hands. She let out a long breath and reached up to trace the line of his jaw, his eyebrows, and the shape of his handsome nose. He kissed her forehead gently and wiped away the tears which that action caused to spill from her eyes.

"That battle—what happened?" Cal asked, crossing his arms across his chest and closing the door behind Regulus.

"Death Eaters discovered one of the Order's hideouts—the home of Edgar Bones. A few of our number were killed, as were Bones and his family," Regulus answered, his expression grim.

Calun sighed as Grace made a noise of disconcertion.

"That's terrible," Cal said in a low voice. Regulus cast his eyes down briefly, not replying, before looking back to Lenna.

"I can't stay long," he murmured. More tears spilled over when Lenna heard that and she closed her eyes. Cal and Grace left the hall to give them privacy. "I'm sorry," he sighed in a low voice. "I'm staying at the Lestrange's and they don't know I'm gone. Severus doesn't think me capable of walking yet."

"Is that who's taking care of you?"

"Yes."

"Good…I'd hate to think one of those Lestranges was seeing to you. Severus knows what he's doing." She pressed herself gently close against him, his and her arms wrapped around one another. She tucked her head against his neck and closed her eyes.

"Lenna…" he murmured softly, his strained voice caressing the word and making it music. "Len…love…" He took a deep, fortifying breath. "I thought I was going to die in that battle." His voice had changed to something earnest and strong. Lenna listened, her eyes opening. "At the end of it, I kneeled beneath a blown up ceiling staring up at the stars as curses were blasting me apart. Thought it was the end of me. And I realized something very clearly in that moment. I don't want to die without ever having been married to you."

Lenna stiffened with shock, blinking, and then pulled back slightly to stare up at him. In his dark gray eyes she found only heartfelt sincerity and depth with the weight of his words. Regulus saw she was at a loss for words of her own and reached down to hold her hand gently in both of his.

"I'd kneel, but the agony of it would quite possibly render me unconscious," he murmured, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "And I don't have a ring yet…so maybe I'm doing this all wrong, but Lenna, I want it. I want you. As long as I breathe. And I want to be able to leave you my name and the memory of the most serious commitment a man can give a woman. You've always been more to me than a girlfriend, you've been my life and happiness." He leaned in to whisper tenderly in her ear, "Marry me."

Lenna did not cry; her eyes were solemn with depth and weight. She gazed up into his face briefly, and then nodded once. "I will."

Regulus' lips pinched together in an odd way and there was moisture in his eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering. "I love you endlessly."

"Regulus, don't go," she said and he winced with the pain of hearing the crack in her voice. "Don't leave me again so soon. Please."

Closing his eyes as she pled, the tears he'd been keeping back leaked from under his lids. The sound of her pain made him want to punch a wall. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, and his own voice cracked with pain. "Lenna…I…"

Lenna wept, holding herself tight against his chest, holding him to her and making every second of contact count.

"Lenna," he moaned, anguished, "if there was any way I could…"

Lenna nodded and promptly let go of him, standing back. She nodded again, wiping off her tears and fortifying her expression. "Go. I know. I'm sorry. Just go."

They stared at one another.

"_Don't look at me like that_," she cried under her breath, flying toward him again and clamping her arms around his neck to kiss him. Regulus groaned deeply with want of her, letting her press him against the closed front door and feel her kiss to the pit of his bones, healing him and rekindling the fire inside his weary body. The sweetness of her kiss and sanctuary of her touch were excruciatingly blissful. When they broke apart, they held one another tightly, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'll be fine," she murmured. "I can't help being selfish sometimes. I'm sorry. You do the best you can."

"That's no excuse," Regulus replied in a sigh.

"It is, though. You have plenty of very real excuses that I have to live with. I just would very much like to take care of you…you have no idea how much I just want to hold you…to fix you…keep you here safe and warm…" Her voice shook. Regulus kissed her temple, her hair, her cheek.

"I would like nothing better in the wide world, kitten," he whispered. "But I'll be just fine. I'll be in much better shape when you see me next. I'm a bit of a hero with the Eaters right now as well, so you mustn't worry about my safety either. And the next time I see you I'll propose properly."

Lenna shook her head, smiling a little. "I like it better this way. There isn't much traditional about you and me, so I think a traditional proposal wouldn't really feel right."

Regulus chuckled softly under his breath. "Suppose so."

Lenna took a deep, slow breath in and out, her head on his shoulder. He took her face in his hands and kissed her slowly and deeply. The kiss reached down to Lenna's bones and made her core ache. Their kiss was the ocean moving up and back upon the shore with the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. Wordlessly, Regulus finally relinquished her and slipped quietly back out the door. Lenna stood for a few minutes, brushing away in lingering moisture on her eyelashes and gathering herself before heading back out into the living room. Grace and Cal were in the kitchen. Grace had made tea and offered Lenna a cup when she walked out to join them.

Cal slung an arm around his younger sister. "You alright, hon?"

"I'm alright," she replied, cupping the warm cup of tea in her hands. "Can we finish the movie?"

"Sure thing."

…


	23. CHAPTER 23: NIGHTMARE, BUT NECESSARY

**CHAPTER 23: NIGHTMARE, BUT NECESSARY  
><strong>

…

"Knowledge is a dangerous thing."

-Albert Einstein

…

"**M**ulciber and Travers must be feeling it," Severus muttered in an undertone.

"It was a foolish idea in the first place," Regulus replied, chewing on one of the cakes Kreacher had gotten out for them. The two were sitting in the corner of the unlit kitchen in Number 12 Grimmauld Place; they could hear the monstrous snores of his mother's portrait all the way from its place in the front hall. They'd left the Lestranges as soon as Severus had deemed Regulus well enough to make the trip; the unpredictable, mismatched family was decidedly unsuited for hosting houseguests.

Regulus' parents Orion and Walburga had returned a while ago, but they had barely spoken to their son and never about anything pertinent. Though proud of Regulus' affiliations, the two personally did not have the stomach for serving the Dark Lord, and preferred to pretend they weren't aware of the ugly things Regulus was called upon to do. His father was usually gone on work, and his mother kept to herself unless she became bored, and then she bossed Regulus around for a little while before moving to bossing around Kreacher.

"The Dark Lord gets a little…obsessive when it comes to Albus Dumbledore," Severus said delicately.

"But I don't think riding the tide of our victory is quite a match for trying to get to the Minister at a ceremony celebrating Dumbledore's achievements—I mean, on top of Aurors, there was probably most of the Order there as well," Regulus said in a low voice. "And Kalman would be difficult enough to get under an Imperius without all that protection… It was absurd. I'm just glad I didn't have to put my neck out on the line for Mulciber's arrogant failed stunt."

Severus nodded in agreement. His quick eyes watched Regulus inhale sharply and touch his hand to his ribs. He frowned. "Those getting any better?"

"Slowly," Regulus replied, making a face. "The spidery red lines are beginning to fade."

"Good. After a month or so, you should only have a small red entry-point mark left."

Regulus nodded. He tossed a cake to Severus who caught it reflexively. "They're good, Sev."

"Don't call me that," Severus gowled back, surveying the cake absently before taking a bite. There was an odd shuffling noise by the right kitchen corner where cabinets were cast in darkness and Severus twitched in surprise and sent a nonverbal Stunning Spell at the noise. There was a thump and Regulus let out a chuckling sigh.

"Try not to stun the help, mate," he said.

Severus frowned, getting up from his chair to investigate. When he lifted his lit wand over the corner there indeed was a stunned Kreacher sprawled on the tile. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Oh, he doesn't mind. He'll probably commend you on your reflexes."

"But what was he doing, lucking around over there?"

"He keeps some goblets down there for easy access and was probably going to serve us something," Regulus replied.

"Attentive, isn't he?"

Regulus shrugged. "House elves usually are."

They lapsed into quiet.

"Did you go on rounds the other night?" Regulus asked him.

For some reason the question made Severus' face tighten in an odd way.

"Yes," he replied.

"…Did it go alright?"

"The usual."

Regulus gave him a hard look. Severus scowled.

"It went fine," he growled.

Silence. Regulus continued to train his gaze on Severus. After a few moments, Severus said in a low voice, "We paid a visit to Godric's Hallow."

"Oh." Regulus sighed. "Saw some familiar faces then?"

"We know they're there. We saw Gideon and Fabian Prewett—they were ready to fight, if we'd come there for that. Fabian wanted to attack us anyway just by himself—he was friends with Edgar, I think…" He trailed off.

"You'd think the Prewetts would be hiding too."

"They've never been ones for precaution," Severus muttered back as Kreacher stirred in the corner. "Don't need it. Brilliant wizards."

Kreacher shuffled out of the shadows and blinked his large, round eyes at them, looking thoroughly bemused. "Kreacher was getting goblets…and then Kreacher was on the floor." He turned to point to the floor, his face blank with incomprehension.

Regulus snickered.

"You surprised me and I stunned you," Severus snapped, looking half-irritated, half-embarrassed.

Kreacher blinked at him. "Mister Severus is very quick with his spells."

"Yeah."

Kreacher shuffled out of the room, scratching his head. He seemed to have forgotten about the drinks.

Severus looked back at Regulus, his dark eyes tight and said once Kreacher was out of earshot, "Your brother left out a little something when he told you about Li—about the Potters."

Regulus lifted an eyebrow and Severus continued, "Lily's expecting."

"A _baby_?"

"No, a centaur. Yes, a _baby_," he growled. "In July."

"How do y'know that?"

"Our feed in the Order—Pettigrew. Potter still considers him one of his closest friends." Severus snorted sharply and contemptuously. "Sirius was probably too protective to mention it."

Regulus chuckled at Severus' reference to a baby as "it". Severus shifted, his gaze cast bitterly downward at the tile as if the floor had offended him.

"I wouldn't fancy raising a child right now if I were them," Regulus commented quietly. "Not while I'm being hunted."

Severus gave him a look. "When _would_ you fancy raising a child, Regulus?"

Regulus puffed out his chest in mock indignation. "I would make a wonderful father!"

Severus wheezed as a laugh burst out of him. Regulus joined him and the two filled the dark kitchen with sudden laughter.

As it died down, Regulus' expression lost its mirth and was pensive again.

"You know he wants them, Severus…don't you?"

The fingers Severus had around the glass in his hand tightened, the knuckles of them turning white. His face was unreadable as he scorched a hole in the floor with eyes that had grown somehow much darker.

"I know."

"He won't stop until—"

"I _know_."

"—until she's dead, Severus," Regulus finished even though he knew his friend didn't want him to.

"It's Potter he really wants," Sev muttered. His voice was rough.

Regulus was quiet for a moment and then replied softly, "She's in as much danger as he is. You know that."

"That's her choice," Sev muttered. "It's always been her choice." Regret and heartache had crept unbidden into the edges of his voice. Regulus pitied him. He didn't have his love, and Regulus didn't know what he'd be without his in his life. Severus had never been given such a gift.

When Regulus said nothing more, Severus stood. "I should get going. And you need some sleep."

"Don't baby me," Regulus sighed in reply. "Have a good night."

"And you." He Apparated out.

He sat alone in the dark kitchen for a few minutes. There was no point in trying to sleep; he was still too sore. He groaned getting up and then walked quietly to the back of the house and the staircase to the basement. Candles placed every so often on the wall lit with a flicker of flame as he passed. He walked into the secret back room and stroked the werecat statue. It opened the doorway for him and Regulus passed through it and lit his wand in the darkness of the room. He conjured a couple candles and sat down against the wall next to the Horcrux books. By the candlelight, he opened _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ to its chapter on Horcruxes and began to read.

…

The more he thought and read about it, the more it fit, and the more he was convinced Lord Voldemort had gone to that length to protect himself from death. His warped and faded features were exactly as described in the books… Regulus was certain the Dark Lord had created a Horcrux. Those in positions of great power are always consumed by the fear of losing that power. And with Lord Voldemort's knowledge and skill in the Dark Arts, it may have even been simple for him to create. After all, how many people has he killed? His soul would've been split already.

So he had a Horcrux. The question was, _where was it_? And _what_ was it? It could be _any_ inanimate object. Anything! And probably hidden under layers of protection and protective curses. Nightmare.

But necessary.

Because Lord Voldemort could never truly be destroyed unless that inanimate object containing his last link to this word was destroyed first. It had to be eliminated before Regulus could even dream of being free and of Lenna being safe.

And he might be the only one besides the Dark Lord himself with an inkling of its existence.

"Er, Regulus?"

Regulus blinked and looked up over the top of the menu he was holding—a menu he'd been staring at without seeing it.

"Yeah?"

"You alright?"

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

"That's okay." Lenna reached her hand over across the table to hold his. Regulus smiled gently at her.

"So what're you thinking about getting?" he asked, scanning the menu and actually reading it this time.

"Their Atlantic salmon looks good. I think I'll get that. With the mashed potatoes."

"Mm, that does sound good. Dunno 'bout fish, though, I'm not really in too much of a fish mood. Prime rib sounds just right to me."

After they ordered from the waitress, Lenna asked him, "Do you have time to come back home after dinner?"

"I have all night, but I'm taking you someplace after dinner."

Lenna's eyes lit up at this surprise. "Where?"

"You'll find out."

She smiled. "I hope it's not dancing. I can't dance after I eat."

"No, it's not dancing."

Lenna gave him a long look, her mouth curving up gently at the corners, and then seemed to decide to leave it a surprise.

"How's work going?" Regulus asked her, sipping his glass of ice water. Lenna grinned.

"Excellent, actually. I personally thought my article on magical home gardens was ho-hum, but people jumped all over it. It's sad people would rather talk about gardening than all the dangers and deaths all around us these days…a human coping mechanism, maybe. Anyway. The article won this office award, and we've gotten _so_ many responses—people writing in and telling us what they have in their own gardens and what's work for them and what hasn't. My mail drawer has had to turn into a mail bin and you can imagine how much Mclusky is hating that. Janet keeps talking about a promotion, but she'll have to get it passed Anderson and I doubt I have enough experience at the paper to go any further just yet, and honestly that's just fine with me. I'm happy with the third page—it's better than I ever even thought I'd get."

"Plus you can stay with safe topics," Regulus added.

"Yes."

He nodded and grinned. "I'm glad that's taking off for you. I expected it to work out, though. You're always good at everything."

"What a load of bollocks," Lenna chuckled. "You got a little brown on your nose, love."

Regulus laughed and they ordered from the waitress. "It's true, though," he continued. "If you put your mind to something, you always do it brilliantly."

"Thanks…" Lenna replied suspiciously.

He grinned again.

"You still hurting?" she asked him after a minute. "It's been a while, but you can't have healed completely."

"I'm better," he replied. "I'm keeping some of the scars, but the wounds have healed mostly and only sting occasionally."

Lenna reached across the table and traced her gentle fingertips down the slight pink scar on the left side of his jaw.

"Makes me look a bit tougher, I think," he said, smiling a little.

Lenna rolled her eyes. "Just take care, yeah? You're better in one piece."

Regulus nodded, his expression wry. "Yeah. I imagine so."

They were served, and as they ate, Lenna fixed her eyes on him. "So where're we going now?"

"I thought you liked surprises."

"I do, but…with you I feel it may be dangerous not to know."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "It's nothing life-threatening, I assure you. It'll just be the two of us."

"Hm." Lenna let it go, however, and they finished up and they left the restaurant. He took her hand in his and held it as they walked down the street in the early evening. She looked at him and took in his handsome figure with a warm surge in her heart. He wore a black cloak over casual but fine clothing and his black hair had been cut again recently so that it did not hide his attractive jaw or gray eyes anymore.

They walked up onto a stone bridge arching over a small river and Regulus leaned against the rail, pulling her gently into his arms. Not caring about the cars passing them, they kissed slowly and deeply. And when there was a lull in traffic, Regulus unexpectedly Apparated the two of them away.

…


	24. CHAPTER 24: LE BOULEVARD D'ATLANTES

Author's Note: Atlantes was a sorcerer featured in epic poems of French literature, the _chansons de geste_. Also, I've never taken French, so if the translations are flawed, please do correct them in a review but don't abuse me. I tried! Enjoy.

…

**CHAPTER 24: LE BOULEVARD D'ATLENTES  
><strong>

…

"Paris is always a good idea."

-Audrey Hepburn, _Sabrina_ (1954)

…

**L**enna blinked around at the small, dim park they'd Apparated to. The air smelled different. There was a hint of sweet liquor and distant sounds and voices were gayer.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"La Ville-Lumière."

"Paris?"

"Very good." He looked at her with a smile as he took her hand and lead her out of the quiet park and onto the late evening streets of the City of Light. Lenna beamed around at the beauty and smelled the city's different scent.

"Why are we in Paris, my love?" she whispered, gazing about her as he walked with her. Out of the small, dark park, lighted buildings rose above them and fancy shops and hotels glinted. If she lifted her eyes above or between the buildings, she could see the Eifel Tower lit like a beacon. People were out on the streets shopping and laughing; the city seemed thousands of miles away from the turmoil of wizarding London.

"There's a place I want to pop into," Regulus replied, admiring the streets as she was but also walking steadily like he knew exactly where he was headed. Lenna let him lead her through the cobbled avenues.

"I feel like I'm in a dream," she said as she passed a wide display window exuding golden light and containing the most amazing dresses she'd ever seen.

Regulus chuckled and replied smoothly, "Your love has always been more like a dream than reality to me." Because it was Paris and there was electricity crackling in their blood, Regulus turned swiftly to her and took her in his arms to kiss her. It seemed like the perfectly natural thing to do. He surrendered her after a moment and they continued on.

Lenna would've happily roamed the streets for hours with him. The steady reassurance of his strong hand in hers and the city's sparkle would've been enough. But when they came to the end of a street, she was slightly disappointed. Where had they been heading if there was just a dead end here? It was an odd dead end. There were bright, tall shops right until the abrupt end of the street…she got an inkling there was more than meets the eye there.

Sure enough, Regulus continued toward the stone wall and as they began to draw near, the wall began to transform into a proud archway, old and beautiful.

Lenna looked around at the Muggles nearby. "Won't they notice us going straight through a wall?"

"It's enchanted. Muggles never notice anything."

As the archway formed completely, Lenna saw that inscribed along the stone in the top were the words _Le Boulevard d'Atlantes_.

"I know that name," she mused. "Is this the famous street that's like the epicenter of all magic in Paris?"

Her question was answered as they stepped through the stone as if it were air.

"Le Boulevard d'Atlantes," Regulus murmured, his prefect accent making the words music.

"Merlin's piss," Lenna breathed. Her eyes were assaulted with what had appeared before them. She allowed Regulus to lead her down one side of the fantastic boulevard. Directly in front of them was a classy hotel named _Les Étoiles de Nuit_—The Stars of Night, if her French was up to snuff.

"It's like our Diagon Alley, only…"

"Only _French_," she finished for him, staring around with large eyes.

Regulus chuckled. "Yes." He looked around with wry indulgence. "The place never sleeps. It's a big party mostly. But it does boast some of the best shops in the world."

"I imagine." She laughed as two young boys came rocketing past on what looked like enormous candlesticks spewing sparks out the ends. They passed a gaggle of people in front of an outdoor bar in the most outlandish and magically-affected clothing Lenna had ever laid eyes on. The outfits swirled and changed of their own accord. A dress' collar actually changed into a live boa constrictor as she watched.

"Look at what they're wearing!" she breathed to Regulus as they passed.

"A heck of a lot of makeup. I think they're actually men," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, yes. But the _clothes_! I've never seen anything like that."

He laughed.

There was too much to look at. Lenna turned around and around as they walked, beaming.

"What an amazing place!"

"Bit wild for my taste," Regulus replied. "Too much of a good thing, you know."

"Oh, yes, I suppose it would get…" She trailed off suddenly and then said, "That building just switched places with the one across the street."

"Yeah, they do that sometimes."

"Do you know where we're going?"

"Do you doubt me?"

Lenna was briefly assaulted by a flock of origami birds. "Wouldn't dream of it," she laughed after swatting the last one on its way.

Regulus snickered. "We're almost there."

"This boulevard is brilliant, but exhausting! How do people even _do_ anything?" she asked before being forced to duck as the young boys came careening back down the street, now pursued by what looked like a gypsy woman on a broomstick spewing rapid-fire French at their sparkling candlestick ends.

"Ah, here we are," she heard Regulus say and turned around to look. "Hurry before the door changes its mind, love." He held the gilded door open for her and she stepped quickly inside.

She immediately knew what they were doing there.

Jewelry of all kinds filled the dazzling store; all of it was breathtaking. Shelves rotated on their own and a cloth was cleaning a golden necklace in the corner. Crystal cabinets sat on glass cases filled with precious stones and chains hung unsupported in the air. She was fairly certain some of the French crown jewels were glittering in the back. And there were rings. Lots of rings.

"Regulus…"

"Please," was all he replied. Lenna melted.

"Alright," she murmured. "Do your worst."

Regulus smiled. "Oh, I will. I most certainly will." He took her hand securely as a thin old man in dress robes came up to them and bowed swiftly and elegantly.

"English?" he inquired in a becoming accent.

"Oui, monsieur," Regulus replied with a smile.

"Ah, very good. The door has informed me that you two are in pursuit of an engagement ring. As I'm sure you don't doubt, you have entered the perfect place. My name is Frédéric Adnot."

"A pleasure, Monsieur Adnot," Regulus replied in an air that showed off his privileged upbringing. "You are quite right, of course. Preferably a set with both engagement and wedding rings."

The man smiled, putting his hands together and looking delighted. "_Oui_, I can see _l'amour passionné _in your young eyes. It makes wishing you every happiness superfluous."

"Merci beaucoup," Regulus replied softly, smiling.

"Oui, oui, _now_," Adnot murmured, relishing the words, "the rings. Am I too bold to assume it is the young lady's choice on the most part?"

"Not at all," Regulus chuckled.

"Oui, as it should be," Adnot said, smiling as he took one of Lenna's hands gently. "Now, _belle dame_, feast your eyes." He turned and waved a white hand. The store transformed with a shimmering ripple into a place entirely devoted to rings.

Instead of embarrassing herself with a British expletive, Lenna merely took a deep breath in and out.

"Stunning," she finally murmured.

Adnot beamed. "Oui, merci, chéri. Please look all around at your leisure, and if you see something you like, let me know. Even if it is merely a setting design or a ring shape. I will find you your perfection."

Lenna smiled. She liked that. _I will find you your perfection._ Adnot seemed to know that price was no real object—perhaps his door had told him that as well. Or perhaps one just didn't shop here if price was an object. She'd put up a fuss but she knew she'd never win. Regulus had the money to spend and she would not be able to stop him from spending it. Might as well enjoy it.

She and Regulus strolled the breathtaking shop slowly, now and then calling Adnot over to remark upon something. Lenna was getting almost dizzy from gazing at so much shining metal and so many sparkling stones. She knew she wanted the traditional gold and diamonds. Wizarding tradition differed from Muggle tradition as diamonds were much more available to the wizarding population and therefore much less valuable, and therefore there had cropped up a widely varying wedding ring culture among magic folk. But Lenna's mother and her mother's mother had been presented with gold and diamonds, and it was a tradition Lenna had no particular desire to deviate from.

Expect for one little thing.

She and Regulus leaned over a display case holding three golden diamond rings, staring. Squinting.

"Did you see—?"

"Yeah, I did—"

"What is it?"

"Looks like…fire. Little, different-colored fires burning in the rings."

"It's beautiful."

"It really is." Regulus almost pressed his nose against the glass and seemingly in response, the tiny fires flickering in the three rings suddenly flared orange and red and seemed to fill the diamond. "Wicked."

Adnot stepped over to them. "Ah," he murmured. "You have discovered the beauty of Dragon's Fire Diamonds. And what a stunning response to your presence!"

"A response to our presence?" Regulus repeated, looking dubious. He moved back a little from the case and the fires died down to flickers.

"Oh yes," Adnot replied rather reverently. "You see, each of these diamonds was created from dragon fire. Dragon fire, having magical properties, can turn coal into diamond without with need for high pressures. When cut and cared for properly, as these have most certainly been, the fire contained inside them has a life of its own. It reacts to the magic and to the strong emotions of what is around it. This fire is what transforms otherwise-common diamond stones into treasures. Many have attempted to train dragons to create these stones, but dragons being dragons, it is a rare occurrence, and generally accidental. Two of those stones were created that way, and the third was harvested from a rare natural occurrence."

"Why are they different colors when they're sort of in that neutral state?" Lenna asked. The first diamond held a bright purple flame; the middle ring, the largest one (which looked rather gaudy to Lenna) held electric blue fire; and the last—about the same size as the first, but more elegant-looking in Lenna's opinion—held a warm red-orange flame. It was a familiar color—the color flames should be—and it drew her eyes and the other two did not.

"Because all three are created by different types of dragons," Adnot said proudly. "The lively one on the left with the bright purple flames is from an Antipodean Opaleye. The stunning blue in the center is from a blazing Chinese Fireball. And the third is from a noble and fiery Hebridean Black."

"Wicked," Regulus murmured again.

"They're beautiful," Lenna murmured.

"And since you said you wanted a diamond," Regulus added, "this would do that but make it a lot more special, you know?"

Lenna nodded. She's fallen quite in love with the third ring, but was not one to make hasty decisions. She diplomatically toured the rest of the store and liked two other rings, but neither as much as she liked the Dragon's Fire Diamonds. Everything else seemed cold and lifeless in comparison.

Regulus smiled as she moseyed over to their case again. He came up beside her and put his cheek against hers. He kissed her cheek and then whispered. "Which one?"

"The one on the right," she replied, unable to keep a grin from her face.

"Back here, hm?" Adnot commented, coming up beside them. "Which of the three catches your eye the most?"

"The one on the right. The Hebridean."

"Don't you like the big blue one?" Regulus asked.

Lenna chuckled. "It's too big, Reg. Heavy. Plus the color is cold."

"Alright," he replied, rolling his eyes. "The little one then."

"None of them are _little_."

Respectfully not venturing his opinion, Adnot opened the case from the back and took out the ring with careful fingertips. He took Lenna's left hand and slid the ring into place. The fire inside it flared warmly.

"Thank you, monsieur."

"Oui." The ring was a bit big for her and Adnot wordlessly slipped out his wand and fitted the elegant golden band comfortably to her finger.

"I remember you preferred _la courbe menue_ style and if you like, this style can be applied to this stone," Adnot commented.

Lenna shook her head. "No, this style and setting is perfect for the stone. Its shape complements the diamond and it's not too heavy or thick for me. Quite honestly, I wouldn't change a thing."

"_Mon_, but you have an excellent eye!" Adnot complimented. "These shapes and settings were indeed designed for these individual stones, and I do doubt nothing could look better with them, no?"

"The ring flows," Lenna nodded. "The shape and the stone are a part of each other. It's masterfully done. I confess I know little about jewelry, but I can appreciate that much. I also love the smaller diamonds down along the sides. It's beautiful, but not too ostentatious. And unless one looked closely, the fire inside wouldn't be easily noticed. It's like a secret magic."

Adnot beamed with genuine delight. "Oui. Although at the moment, the fire is affected and apparent. I must warn you, however, the ring can give away your emotions—and the emotions of those around you. Every fire is different, so I have no color translation code to give, but those of a reserved nature may not appreciate their emotions being displayed in that way. To solve his, there are two spells I can teach you and write down for you to conceal the fire inside your diamond. One makes it invisible to all, and the second invisible to all but you or those to which you wish it to be visible.

Lenna nodded. "With those two spells, it would be private enough."

"You must be sure. You must love it," Adnot said with a smile. In response, Lenna lifted the ring to his eyes with a grin. The flames were filling the diamond with flickering warmth, displaying her delight for the world to see.

"I am sure, monsieur."

…


	25. CHAPTER 25: OURS IS THE FIRE

**CHAPTER 25: OURS IS THE FIRE  
><strong>

…

"Love is a spirit all compact of fire."

-William Shakespeare, _Venus and Adonis_, 151

…

**M**onsieur Adnot beamed and put his hands together happily. "Excellent, _félicitations_!" he exclaimed. "And I have a band that would look _phénoménal_ with that ring." He bustled behind the case for a moment and brought out two ring cases, one a small navy blue velvet and the other a slightly larger maroon velvet. He opened the blue and took out one of the two slim and elegant gold wedding bands with small diamonds embedded along the top. He slipped in onto her finger as well and fitted it accordingly. He then preformed a spell the lock the two together to create one ring, and he adjusted and fussed, thinning the band of the engagement ring a bit, until the two together looked like one elegant ring. Then he looked for Lenna's approval and when it was given, he separated the two rings again. For Regulus' band, he widened it and fitted it to his finger.

"Are there any inscriptions or alterations you would like to have made? Inscriptions I can have done now before your eyes—they are a specialty of mine," Adnot said proudly, smiling.

"On the wedding bands," Regulus said gently, "I should like the words 'Amor vincit omnia'."

Adnot smiled, his eyes warm. "Love, it conquers all?"

Regulus nodded.

"Se magnifique." He took the bands gently in his fingers one at a time and touched his wand tip to the inside, concentrating. When he handed them back, Lenna and Regulus looked at his intricate script.

"Thank you very much, monsieur," Regulus said, pleased.

"Merci, monsieur," she murmured. Regulus took the ring gently in his fingers and when he was done looking at it, he slid it gently back onto her finger, catching her eyes as he did so. Lenna smiled. There the ring would stay for the rest of her life. The thought was daunting, but there was something very right about it.

Seeing the gesture, Adnot did not move to take the ring back to place it in the maroon velvet case along with the wedding band. He merely replaced the band and Lenna wandered around, gazing at all different kinds of magical jewelry as the store melted back into what it had looked like when they first came in, and Regulus and Monsieur Adnot went together into a room in the back. Lenna knew the amount of gold Regulus would dole out for the rings would be outrageous, but he had made her promise not to worry about it, and she was aware of the Black's incredible fortune.

Plus, it was worth it. She was in love with her ring. She kept looking down at the little flame on her finger and it would flicker a little brighter when she did as if in response to the attention. When she thought of Regulus, it filled the diamond with red-orange light. It was like a piece of her heart's light—her heart's fire—had been placed inside a diamond. It was incredible.

She wanted Regulus to finished paying _now_. She wanted to kiss him. Throw her arms around him and hold him to her. Go someplace private and live the fire that burned inside her. Her eyes were smoldering when he walked out with Adnot, pocketing the blue case and smiling genuinely at a joke of some sort. They came up to Lenna and Regulus shook hands with Adnot, and then Lenna did also.

"Congratulations, _monsieur et mademoiselle_. It has been a pleasure," Adnot said warmly, bowing swiftly in goodbye before the two turned and left the shop hand in hand. Not even a few steps down the colorful street, Lenna turned to Regulus and threw her arms around him. Regulus caught her up and swung her, laughing, and Lenna sucked in a breath as he Apparated with her.

"Stop doing that when I'm not expecting it," Lenna chastised teasingly. "Where are we now?"

He was still holding her and the air had changed dramatically once more. It was about five degrees warmer and the air smelled of the sea. She could hear that sea plainly—the steady tone of water moving up and back upon sand and stone. It was dark here and quiet, though they were still on a cobbled street lit by the light of quaint streetlamps evenly separated. Large coastal homes painted light natural shades sat in front of them, still and peaceful in the night.

"The south of France, my love," he murmured. He was looking past her and Lenna turned in his arms to face the same direction. She gasped delicately.

They were standing on a grassy point above the beach and the ocean, black with the fall of night, spread before them. The coast curved in to their right and the lights of the docks and boats and homes sparkled on the warm Mediterranean water.

"Fancy a swim?" he asked with a smile. Lenna turned to look up at him.

"To be honest, I'm not patient enough," she answered.

His eyebrows twitched upward and a grin lifted one corner of his mouth. "Well then," he whispered. "Come with me, _mon __chéri_." He squeezed her hand and led her away from the point down the street to a white inn right along the water. The windows on the bottom floor glowed warmly and Regulus held the door open for her. The lobby of the inn was beautiful and homey, but at this point Lenna had eyes only for her fiancé.

Regulus conversed with the receptionist briefly in French and then was given a small silver key. He led Lenna to the second floor and opened their room door for her. Lenna was sure the room was lovely and picturesque, but she saw none of it. In the dimness, Regulus pushed the door closed with his foot and then growled low in his throat, pulling her to him with a hungry urgency. Gasping, Lenna wrapped herself around him. He gathered her up into his arms, lifting her and pressing her against the wall as she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him, her arms locked around him.

Lenna pulled off Regulus' cloak and shirt as he held her against the wall so that her lips could taste the bare skin of his shoulders. Regulus brought them to the first thing he happened upon: an armchair. He kneeled on it while Lenna kissed him with hungry passion. She ran her hands through his hair, down his back, up around his shoulders…he held her tightly and kissed her. There were no words; only gasps, light moans, and rushed breathing marked them. The armchair was not enough space. Lenna moved, and kept her arms around Regulus' back as she moved them off the chair and down onto the floor. Trustingly, Regulus let her lower him.

Astride him now, Lenna's hips rocked against his and she pulled her shirt off. Regulus took her hips with his hands and pressed her down against his hardness. Lenna moaned for want of him. She moved down and away from him in order to free him of his shoes and then his belt and pants. Regulus helped, lifting himself so she could get his clothes out from under him. She made quick work of her own shoes, socks, and pants, then pressed their torsos together to feel the delicious pressure of him against her with very little between their bodies. She smiled when Regulus groaned. Kissing him and not relinquishing her position on top, she ground on him, teasing them both.

Regulus eased off her bra and kissed her lingeringly and gently on her neck and shoulders in the way he knew melted her bones. As she moved against him, he took a nipple gently into his mouth and listened to the light noise of pleasure in her throat. She closed her eyes and sucked in breaths sharply as he trailed his tongue, and those sharp breaths turned into a low moan of pleasure as he sucked deeply and warmly. Lenna lifted so that she could reach down and take hold of him through his boxers. Regulus let out a sudden growl and Lenna grinned. She squeezed—hard. The way he wanted. Regulus closed his eyes and groaned.

Obviously he could bear the teasing no longer, because he took hold of her strongly and pushed her onto her side and then onto her back on the carpeted floor. Whatever was next to them—a footstool—he shoved roughly out of their way. He peeled and shimmied off the last of their clothing and she spread herself for him. When he entered her, she cried out with the delicious, expected force of it. She craved him. Regulus' breath came hard as he placed a hand beside her head to support himself and pushed deeper. His free hand roamed her breast, her side, and teased her clit between them briefly.

Lenna whimpered, moved against him, and hitched her hips up, drawing him in with her legs up around his lower back. Regulus moved out and back, his eyes open and staring down at her face. Lenna's noises of pleasure were almost enough to satiate him. She arched and reached and pulled him ever deeper, ever closer. Regulus plunged in and moved out, shocking their bodies with the delicious force of it.

After a moment, he began to move faster and stayed deep, no longer drawing out too far. It caused his body to grind against her clit in a way that he knew made her wild. Lenna screamed with the sharp bliss spiking and blooming inside her that she needed still further. After another minute, she suddenly broke with a rushing force, and her desperate, clenching pulling transformed into trembling and shuddering release.

Regulus let himself go then, pushing up into her and finding his own release with sharp groans. He slipped out of her but did not let the heat between them cool. He kissed her neck, her breast, her stomach, and the insides of her wrist. He nibbled gently—and then not so gently—on the skin of her neck and shoulder. He trailed his tongue in deliberate circles along her sensitive inner thighs and then took her mouth with hers to kiss her deeply; a kiss both of them felt to their cores. A kiss that sinks in and warms from the inside. Lenna held him and drew his earlobe into her mouth when given the chance. He stilled and then groaned; she knew his special places well. She sucked and nibbled there and had him stirring again hot and hard in her hands.

This one they took slowly. Regulus sat cross-legged on the floor against the bed, and she settled into his lap, her legs around his lower back. She guided him into her and let him remain nestled inside of her as she kissed him and made only the smallest of movements. Regulus chuckled, enjoying the torture. Hungrily, Lenna began to move, drawing him deeper. Still, she moved slowly as he held her. She was in charge. Her hips rocked with a demanding rhythm against his.

He groaned with the pleasure she was both giving and taking. And when she demanded more, she pushed him down to the side onto his back and straddled him. Back and forth she worked for a while, and then ground side-to-side, which had both of them gasping and crying out. Finally she sat up tall and gave it all she had. Regulus beneath took her backside in both hands and met her thrust for trust. The force of that joining whipped though and shattered Lenna with a staggering force. Taken by surprise with the intensity of her second orgasm, Regulus held her waist in his hands and felt her shudder, clench, and relax until she lay, melted and spent for the moment on top of him.

He chuckled, holding her as she sucked in air and occasionally trembled again.

"_Ha__h_," she breathed, sitting up again and running a hand through her tousled hair. Regulus grinned and that grin turned into a stiff growl as her hand found him and squeezed. He throbbed in her hand, tilting his head back and exhaling.

"Come and get me," she breathed; the sound a low purr. She backed up away from him and Regulus went after her. He caught her on top of the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, taking the skin of the back of her neck into his mouth to caress with his teeth. With a soft cry, she pressed her backside into him and he roughly took her waist in his hand and moved out to pull her in toward him. Kneeling, Lenna bent her upper body down until her head was almost touching the covers and her arm was up between her forehead and the bed board.

With a heavy breath, he found her entrance with a hand and guided himself in. She was still wet from before, and now terribly sensitive. So much so, his pressure and touch inside her almost hurt. It hurt like a tooth hurt—a pain one wanted to aggravate, wanted more of.

She squeezed her eyes shut and then cried out as he dove deep. She flexed to press against him tight while he pulled almost out and then plunged back in again. Lenna screamed. Regulus breathed hard, making rough, sharp noises in the back of his throat. When he found his climax, he roared and plunged impossibly deep. He remained there for a few moments; she could feel him pulsing inside of her. Lenna groaned and smiled, savoring hearing the groans he makes only when he comes.

He pulled out and, kneeling, sat back, breathing deeply. Lenna turned and gently kissed up his chest and neck; light, feathery kisses. When he had coherent thought back, he rose in a swift movement with his arms around her and laid her down onto the bed, their lips meeting again with a fire that never would quite be quenched.

…


	26. CHAPTER 26: THE GAMES OF BELLA LESTRANGE

**CHAPTER 26: THE GAMES OF BELLATRIX LESTRANGE  
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…

"Men's evil manners live in brass: their virtues

We write in water."

-William Shakespeare, _Henry VIII_

…

**L**enna found herself face-down in a springy white pillow with the heavy weight of Regulus' bare arm and a leg slung over her. A smile slid up to her face and remained there as she closed her eyes again. It had been too long since she and Regulus had shared a night together—and far too long since a night like _that_. Merlin.

After a few minutes, Regulus' growling stomach woke him. He shifted and came into awareness, blinking. He rubbed Lenna's bare back with the arm that had been resting over her and lifted his head up on a hand, smiling.

"Time's it?" he asked.

"Don't care," was her reply.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Regrettably, I must be back before my parents miss me, love."

"Send them an owl that you're someplace else. Special mission or something." She didn't even lift her head. She felt no inclination to move from her position. "You're a legal adult, besides. You don't need their permission."

Regulus heaved a groan as he got off the comfortable bed. After a few moments of looking around, he found a clock and swore softly. Lenna grimaced.

"Alright," her fiancé relented, obviously as loath to leave as she was to let him go. "I'll send my patronus to Kreacher telling him to let my parents know not to be expecting me for breakfast. Or lunch." He smiled and sat back on the bed, caressing the soft skin of her backside which the white sheet didn't quite cover all the way. He took a minute to send his arctic fox off to Grimmauld Place, and then put both his hands to the task of adoring her.

Lenna giggled softly as his hands reached under the sheets to her belly. Still, she tried to remain unmoving. It became a game and Regulus' caresses became more and more determined, though he took his time, knowing victory would ultimately be his. Finally Lenna squirmed, laughing, and rolled over onto her back; Regulus immediately moved to hover above her and began adoring the skin that had previously been inaccessible to him.

Love for him flared to the surface of her skin, and Lenna reached to take hold of him and bring him down against her body tightly. She held him fiercely and Regulus held himself still in her arms.

"I love you," she said, and her words were as fierce as her embrace.

Regulus nuzzled his head into her neck. "Kitten," he whispered. "There is no love like mine for you." Apparently feeling as if this sudden embrace was the result of some sort of fear that needed soothing, he murmured, "Hush. All is well."

Yes, all was well. The man she loved was safe and whole in her arms. They were hundreds of miles away from where danger loomed over the overcast city she had grown up in. She would be married to him. Her man was strong, capable, intelligent—everything. Everything she needed and wanted. Yes, for this moment in time, all was well.

Lenna nodded and kissed his cheek. Regulus smiled and rolled so that he was no longer on top of her, but she was still in his arms. She cuddled into his side and sighed gently. Regulus' stomach growled again but neither of them moved. Every moment was precious.

The only thing Lenna was wearing was her engagement ring, and she lifted it to her eyes to gaze at it. The fire inside was burning brightly.

"Bet that was about bursting last night," Regulus commented with a grin in his voice.

Lenna laughed softly. "I didn't think to look at it. I was a tad distracted."

"Were you now?" he murmured, kissing her shoulder gently. Lenna closed her eyes, knowing his gentle sarcasm needed no reply.

He looked up at her as she continued to gaze at the diamond.

"When?" she asked.

Regulus was quiet. "I don't know. Whenever we can."

"It will have to be very small and very quiet."

He nodded, guilt flickering across his face as he watched her expression. "I'm sorry."

"I don't really mind," she replied honestly. "It means the same to me. Are we going to have a kind of ceremony, or just obtain the license?"

"I don't know. It's up to you."

"If it's not too much to ask, a very quiet and quick ceremony would be nice. In early autumn. But Regulus," she said, seriousness in her eyes, "I can't have you getting pulled away like you did at the beach. It would be…"

"I will take care of it," Regulus said softly and solemnly.

"Thank you." She kissed him lightly. "Now we should get that stomach of yours some breakfast. I bet this place has a lovely little setup downstairs."

They dressed without rush and Lenna admired the pretty quaintness of their room like she'd been too busy to do last night. In the late morning the light was lovely, and she could hear the ocean through the windows.

They went downstairs hand in hand and found a delicious array of breakfast foods set out for guests in a small dining room with an entirely-windowed far wall that looked upon the sea. With a couple other late breakfasters, they helped themselves and sat down at a table. The two talked and laughed and enjoyed their time before they both had to return to their separate lives.

…

Regulus concentrated on keeping the muscles in his face relaxed as curly-haired Phoebe Curnow wept pathetically from her position in Bellatrix's lazy chokehold, her body magically limp and dragging behind them whenever the sneering woman gripping her head moved.

He and Mulciber stood with their wands pointing at the Secretary for the Minister, Ian Curnow, a thin, clever-looking man with his long brown hair tied back in a ponytail staring with wide, terrified eyes at his wife and her captor. Through a long window in the far wall, moonlight spilled across the floor and around his kneeling figure. In a pile by the closed door of the Secretary's midtown London home laid the bodies of the various Ministry guards who had been positioned at various locations around the home protecting its inhabitants.

"Your little wifey here sang like a birdie," Bella sneered, shaking Mrs. Curnow's head for effect. The woman whimpered and her blonde curls bounced. "Just a little pain and she's ready to sell her soul. '_Number 415! 415!_'" Bella mocked, making her voice high like a frightened little girl. "'_The guards are here, here, and here_!' Pathetic." Bella threw the woman onto the ground and spat on her. Mrs. Curnow lay helpless and limp, weeping. Bellatrix twirled her wand absently as she gazed at Ian. "She obviously didn't give a rat's arse for your life at all, Ian. And I have a feeling…this opinion is mutual." Bella smiled. The smile she smiled when she expected a good game from her prey.

Regulus steeled himself. Bella had a talent for digging a hooked claw into a person and bringing to light the worst of them. He knew what she was about to do before she put it into motion, and he wished the scene wouldn't play out the way she seemed to know it would.

Bellatrix tapped her wand to her chin. "Here's the thing, Ian, I don't have to kill you. I'm going to get the information out of you either way. I think you know that. But I came here tonight in expectation of murdering _someone_. It ends a night so well, you know. Just rounds it off nicely. But there's two of you, isn't there? Only one of you has to die at the end of tonight, Ian darling. And I'm giving the choice to you. You…or your wife."

Bella gazed at him as he stared back at her. His gaze fell onto his wife on the floor. He said nothing.

"Prompt his tongue, Regulus," Bella whispered.

"_Crucio_," Regulus growled, pointing his wand at Curnow who began to writhe on the floor in agony, screaming and screaming.

"Worse," Bella commanded.

Regulus twisted his wand and Curnow's screaming leapt up an octave and he bloodied his body as he thrashed against the wood floor. Coherent screaming began pouring out of him, betraying his true nature.

"_HER! HER! HER! KILL HER! KILL HER! NOT ME—GOD—GOD—STOP—I'LL DO ANYTHING, I'LL TELL YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT—PLEASE—GOD—HERRRR_!"

Regulus lifted the curse with an ugly expression. Bella was smiling gently.

"That's what I thought," she purred. She looked at Regulus. "Make him look."

Regulus strode to Ian Curnow and yanked him upright and his head back with a fist in his sweaty hair. Ian was trembling and tears of pain were streaming from his eyes. Bella was kneeling by Phoebe Curnow and was holding up her upper body with her head pulled back by her curls to look at Ian in the same way.

"As you chose, Ian," Bella whispered. And, holding her wand tip to Phoebe's heart, she murmured, as if cooing to a child, "_Avada Kedavra_." There was a flash of green and Phoebe's eyes were glassy and vacant. With her fingers still fisted in the woman's blonde curls, Bella turned her head to look into her empty blue eyes. She cocked her head slightly, as if it were the first dead face she'd ever seen and she found it intriguing.

Regulus was watching Ian. At the flash of the curse, the man had flinched violently, but his expression did not hold much remorse as he averted his gaze from the lifeless body of the woman he had pledged his life and love to. _In words only_, Regulus thought darkly. Words as empty as his wife's eyes.

Bella had stood and lifted Phoebe up by her hair until the woman was dangling above the floor. She was a short, petite thing and looked childlike next to Bella's imposing figure. Bella moved the dead woman side to side a little, gazing at her.

"She looks like a porcelain doll, doesn't she, Regulus? A life-size doll."

"Bella…" Regulus tried, but his cousin would not be distracted. She let go of the woman who folded onto the ground as limply as a Raggedy Ann. Then she used her wand to manipulate the body into standing upright, head erect.

Bella chuckled deeply. "Ooh, how fun. I never had much patience for dolls, but I suppose it's never too late. What do you think, Mulciber?" She manipulated the woman to walk over to Mulciber and press her pretty torso against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It looked for all the world as if the woman were alive again and it was chilling. Mulciber shoved away the body and scowled at Bellatrix.

"Bella," Regulus growled, "we have information to acquire."

Bella sighed. "I think I'll have little Dolly watch, don't you?" She stood the body up off to the side with her head erect and her hands behind her back and left her that way. It was eerie, but Regulus shook it off. Bella paced in front of Ian.

"Now Ian darling, I need for you to give to me the Minister's schedule for the next few weeks. You plan his every minute at work and so I know you know."

Ian's Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Th-There's a desk in my study upstairs and—and in it is a black book filled with everything you c-could ever want to know."

Bella nodded at Regulus and Regulus immediately turned and took off up the stairs in search of this book. When he returned back downstairs with it in hand, Bellatrix was pacing in front of Ian, showing more patience than Regulus expected. He handed her the book like an obedient puppy and Bella began to flip through it as Mulciber and Regulus kept their wands trained on Ian. Across from then, Phoebe's glassy eyes watched the proceedings.

"It says in here that on Thursday, Kalman will be in Diagon Alley presenting an award to Annett Honeywell for her bestselling spell book—is that correct?"

"Yes—"

Bellatrix trained her wand on him and suddenly he was screaming.

"_This book wouldn't be full of lies, would it, Ian? You wouldn't try and pull something on me like that, would you_?" she demanded.

"_NO IT'S TRUE I SWEAR TO YOU HE'LL BE THERE—IT'S NOT A FAKE—IT'S KALMAN'S SCHEDULE—WE FINALIZED THIS WEEK JUST THIS MORNING—I SWEAR IT—I SWEAR—_" His scream cut off into a groan as Bellatrix let up. She was smiling again.

"That's good to hear, Ian."

"Yes—yes—I've given you want you want—please—let me go, just let me go…" He gasped from the floor. Stupid bastard. Did he really believe they would let him live? Feeling Bellatrix's eyes on him, Regulus chuckled softly and Bella smiled, sharing a glance with him.

"Of course, Ian, of course. I said so, didn't I? But first, I'd like my friend here to give you a taste of what you'll experience if you should go blabbing about what has happened here tonight." She looked to Mulciber, and Mulciber growled, "_Crucio_!"

For what seemed like a very long time, Ian thrashed and writhed in agony on the floor. Regulus watched it all with his arms crossed and his face devoid of emotion. Ian's pleading turned into a stream of what seemed like gibberish and then his throat ripped from the screaming and he gurgled blood. At this point, Bellatrix held up her hand and Mulciber raised his wand, lifting the curse.

Ian lay gurgling, his bloodied body spasming at random.

"Mmm. Wasn't that a good taste?" Bella asked. She laughed and jerked Ian into a sitting position with her wand. She jerked his head up so he was looking at her. He was pallid, with sweat, blood and tears covering his face, and his eyes were red and frenzied. Bella had had him tortured to within a few minutes of madness. Presumably to make her final performance more effective.

She again tapped her wand to her chin as she looked at Ian. "But Ian darling, it occurs to me…I wasn't very fair letting _you_ decide which one of you two lived. Something tells me that if I ask little Phoebe over there, she might not be of the same opinion. Marriages are just _full_ of these little disagreements, aren't they?" she mused. She twitched her wand and Pheobe's corpse obediently walked up to her, her glazed eyes staring just slightly past.

"Phoebe, honey, it's your turn," Bellatrix purred. "If I were to only kill one of you, which of you would you like it to be?"

Phoebe's body did nothing for a moment. Bella slipped her wand behind her back. Ian's red eyes were fixed on his wife's unknowing face. A face that turned slowly to face him. Phoebe's hand slowly rose and her index finger extended …to point to him. Bellatrix smiled gently.

"That's what I thought," she murmured, and from behind, Mulciber leveled the Killing Curse at Ian Curnow's back.

…


	27. CHAPTER 27: A PLACE TO START

**CHAPTER 27: A PLACE TO START  
><strong>

…

"It is important to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated."

-Albus Dumbledore

…

**R**egulus turned the warm cup of tea in his hands, feeling impatient and anxious. He had no guarantee that the man he had arranged a meeting with at outrageously high risk to himself wouldn't turn up with the entire Order of the Phoenix to kill him. But Regulus needed information. He needed a place to start.

For what must be the fourth time, his waitress came up to him and offered him more tea, even though he'd hardly taken two swallows. She was an attractive girl about twenty with black hair in a stylish pixie cut and eyes that surveyed him with too much interest for his taste. He didn't even look at her as he replied, "No, thank you."

Her long, bright blue nails trailed along the table. "Okay. So are you expecting someone?"

"Yes," Regulus replied crisply. "Old man. White beard. It's what I'm into."

She laughed and leaned over to put both elbows on the table to look at him. "Somehow I doubt that, love."

Regulus trained a cold gaze on her. "I think, _love_, that you should keep your doubts to yourself and sod off."

Affronted, she made a scoffing sound and walked away without another word. Regulus looked back down at his steaming tea. He probably wouldn't show up. Why would he? It would be too risky for him. Regulus wouldn't've done it, if he were in his place. He sighed. He was a little too desperate, trying to meet up with—

An old man wearing a dark blue traveling cloak and half-moon spectacles quite suddenly slid into the booth across from Regulus. Regulus blinked at him, sitting back.

This had been a moronic idea.

He felt eleven years old again. This man could take him prisoner in a blink of one of his blue eyes. He'd gone too far.

"Good evening, Regulus," greeted Albus Dumbledore placidly.

Regulus swallowed. "Evening, Professor. I…I hadn't thought you would…take me up on this."

"Oh, I did toss it back and forth. But I have a few friends in disguise around and about who tell me they have observed nothing overly malicious besides unnecessary rudeness to a waitress. Besides, it promised to be an interesting chat, and I do so hate passing those up." He gazed expectantly at Regulus, his hands folded casually on the table.

"I apologize for the Muggleness of the meeting place, but this is extraordinarily dangerous for me, and I had to take as much precaution as possible," Regulus told him. "The food's rather good here, though, so I thought it would be alright."

"Yes, it's a fine place."

Their waitress forced herself up to them with a sour expression and asked Dumbledore, "Can I get you anything?"

"A large cup of tea and some cake would be splendid," Dumbledore replied genially. She nodded and left them.

"You might've had yourself a date if you hadn't offended her," Dumbledore commented, watching the waitress leave.

"You couldn't find a man less interested," Regulus replied with a dark look at his tea.

"No time for pretty girls, Regulus? That's a shame."

"I'm a heartless bastard, Professor—you should know that." Regulus looked and sounded serious, but Dumbledore caught his almost-imperceptible humor and gave him a darkly wry look.

"Oh, I don't doubt it," he replied, then asked after a moment, "Someone else then?"

Regulus scoffed, "Hardly. But we're not here to discuss my personal life, with all due respect, Professor."

"Very well," Dumbledore replied. "Then why am I here, Regulus?"

"I have a hunch," Regulus began. That sounded stupid and he closed his eyes briefly. "More than a hunch. But for this information to be useful, I need someplace to start. I wouldn't have asked you to meet me if I could've obtained this information as completely and accurately from anyone else. I cannot tell you why Professor, but I need to know everything you know about the Dark Lord's past."

Dumbledore said nothing.

Regulus continued. "Who was he before he became the Dark Lord? What was his name? Where did he grow up? I'll take anything and everything."'

Dumbledore said nothing for a long time. He merely surveyed Regulus quietly. The waitress brought his tea and cake and he had some. Regulus forced himself to be patient.

At length the old man answered, "Usually I would ask why you need information as I would not like to see it used to aid the Death Eaters, but I cannot see how the memories and information I have could be used against the Order. Indeed, it would be good for you to know more about the master you have pledged your servitude to. Is it possible you have grown disillusioned with your choice, Regulus, and desire your master's defeat, knowing only his destruction will free you?"

Regulus gave him a long, emotionless look. "Whatever my feelings toward my situation, there are my business. All I'm asking from you is for you to share facts of the past to which only you seem privy too. But I will say this. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain by sharing what you know about the Dark Lord with me."

Dumbledore stared at Regulus again silently. Regulus felt as if those blue eyes were looking past his own, down into his soul and seeing everything—his love for Lenna, his silent daily battles for survival, his secret search for the key to Voldemort's destruction. Apparently Dumbledore was satisfied with what he found, because he began to give him what he so desperately needed.

"The name given to your master by his mother was Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Regulus conjured a quill and parchment and scribbled hastily.

"When rearranged, the letters in this name form the words 'I am Lord Voldemort'."

Regulus blinked in surprise. _How oddly…childish_. "You mentioned his mother—do you know her name?"

"Merope Gaunt. He is named for his Muggle father, Thomas Riddle."

Regulus' head shot up to stare incredulously at Dumbledore. "The Dark Lord is a _half blood_?" he breathed.

"Oh yes, quite. And Merope was considered little more than a Squib. Both she and Riddle's father were from the town of Little Hangleton. Tom Riddle Senior was from a prominent family and married the impoverished Merope very suddenly."

"She bewitched him."

"Indeed. And when she lifted it, he left her immediately. Tom was born on New Years Eve of 1962 on the steps of an orphanage in London. His mother died shortly after childbirth and he lived at the orphanage until I came to tell him he was a wizard and to give him his Hogwarts letter."

Regulus was scribbling.

"It may be pertinent," Dumbledore continued, "to tell you of some of the stories I was told by a certain Mrs. Cole when I came to see Tom that day. Like most children with magical ability, Tom had caused unexplainable things to happen. Unlike most children, however, he was very ready to believe he was special and powerful and had begun to consciously use this magical power to manipulate objects and people, to bully the other children, and to punish those who were unkind to him. The ability to consciously control his magical ability at such an early age spoke of a potent magical power. A power Tom was already using to dominate.

"Mrs. Cole told me there had been incidents at the orphanage revolving around Tom but never quite implicating him. A boy's pet rabbit mysteriously hung itself after the boy got into a fight with Tom. And one incident—noteworthy because it marks a movement from hurting animals as revenge to hurting people—involved a day trip to the seaside during which Tom disappeared with two other orphan boys into a cave. Once there, he did something to them that traumatized them into silence."

"Did he have any objects?" Regulus asked. "Any items in his childhood that were special to him?"

"He likes to steal," Dumbledore replied. "Rather like a magpie. A magpie that marks big events with keepsakes that may or may not belong to it."

"Any family heirlooms?"

"As an orphan, Tom had nothing to his name, but his mother's family, the Gaunts, were in fact a very ancient wizarding family. Marvolo, Tom's grandfather, was sent to Azkaban for attacking a Ministry official and almost killing his daughter Merope. He is dead, but his uncle Morfin, Merope's brother, was there for three years before returning to the family home. In the summer of 1943, Morfin was put back into Azkaban for the murder of three Muggles in the town. Can you guess who they were, Regulus?"

"Riddle's Muggle father and his family?" Regulus ventured.

Dumbledore nodded. "Tom Riddle Senior and his parents in their home. It was most certainly done with Morfin's wand and when the Ministry came to him, Morfin proudly confessed the whole thing. He's in Azkaban currently."

Regulus scribbled hurriedly. "Do you know if the Dark, er, if—if Riddle knows of his heritage?"

"Knowing Tom, I am certain he researched it insatiably. I am sure he knows everything."

"I imagine it was around the time he learned his father was a Muggle who abandoned his mother that Tom Riddle Senior and his parents were murdered," Regulus said in a low voice.

Dumbledore said nothing, but there was a hint of pride in his blue eyes. "Tom was regarded as one of the most brilliant students to ever attend Hogwarts. Many that taught him still are unaware of the connection between him and the most powerful dark wizard the world has known, and wouldn't believe it if they were told. He was handsome, polite, and extraordinarily talented. He was a school Prefect and Head Boy. During his school years he secretly gathered himself a following; a Slytherin crew of the ambitious, the thuggish, and those seeking the protection of the powerful.

"After graduating, Tom immediately applied to the Headmaster at the time, Armando Dippet, for a position teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Armando thought him too young to begin to teach immediately, although he invited him to reapply in a few years if he was still interested in the post. I admit advised him against this. Knowing him from such a young age, I felt keenly aware of the hidden darkness in Tom and the thought of him teaching young students was not a happy one. After leaving from the school after that, he disappeared for a little less than a year. When he returned he was offered several Ministry positions, all of which he oddly refused for a job at Borgin and Burkes. Not very long into that job, a customer by the name of Hepzibah Smith was murdered and Tom again disappeared—this time for a few years.

"When he returned, he again applied for a position at Hogwarts. He had been busy. His physical appearance was altered—he had sunk very deeply into the Dark Arts and I believe undergone a few magical transformations. The Headmaster at this time was yours truly and I denied him the post, believing his intentions to be malicious ones. The support he had gathered had been kept quiet from the world, but once he had no pretense to keep up because I had denied him the position, Tom Riddle disappeared, and the man you know as your master took his place, recruiting the wizarding world's outcasts, its power-hungry, and its frightened in a campaign against Muggle-borns to amass power. You, of course, know the rest."

Regulus was starting past Dumbledore, lost in thought.

"I never really imagined him as a human that, y'know, had a childhood and went to school. He's always just seemed like power personified. A being."

"Which is how he prefers to be seen, I'm sure," Dumbledore replied, taking another bite of cake. Regulus pushed his cold tea away. He looked down at his notes.

"Regulus," Dumbledore said in an odd tone. Worried? "Lord Voldemort is a very accomplished Legilimens. A mind-searcher. And he will not be pleased you know all of this."

Regulus nodded. "I know he's a Legilimens. But there are things I keep from him—things that would damn me—that he knows nothing about besides what my manner sometimes betrays. I don't pretend to be an Occlumens, but if I need to keep something from him, I'm able to do so. My mind is my own."

"I'm glad to hear it," Dumbledore said, and there was that hint of pride in his eyes again. "You look very like your brother, Regulus, if I may say so. When you were both younger the difference was more pronounced, but now that you're both grown men, you could be twins. You brood rather more, though."

Regulus smiled briefly. "I imagine so. Sirius has all the laughter and me all the shadows."

The waitress came up and gave Regulus an ugly look while asking him, "Would you like anything else?"

"No, thank you, I think we're finishing up," he replied politely. She nodded curtly and left.

"He still doing alright?" Regulus asked.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore answered with an indulgent smile.

"Right. Well, you should tell 'im to find a good girl and settle down. I bet his famous playboy bit is getting old, even to him."

The professor laughed. "I'll pass that along." He stood up and Regulus followed suit.

"Sir, thank you for sharing all this with me. I don't know when you'll be able to understand what it's for, but I hope when you do, you'll think better of me."

"What gave you the impression I don't think well of you, Regulus?" he replied gently. And with a soft _pop_ he was gone, a departure observed by none of the surrounding Muggles in the dim light. Regulus pulled his own cloak up around his shoulders, left a generous tip, and walked out, the notes he had taken gripped tightly in his hand.

…


	28. CHAPTER 28: BUSINESS TALK

**CHAPTER 28: BUSINESS TALK**

…

_I'm at war with the world  
>'Cause I'm never gonna sell my soul<br>And they try to pull me into the dark_

_I've already made up my mind_

_No matter what, I can't be bought or sold_

-'Awake and Alive', Skillet

…

**A** rapping knock came at the door and Regulus hastily shoved the notes he'd been circling and scribbling on under a few books on the right of his desk and snatched a novel from the shelf behind him as Kreacher opened the door of his study announcing, "Mr. Malfoy here to see you, Master Regulus."

Regulus stood to greet Lucius as he walked in and shut the door behind him, almost hitting Kreacher in the face with it.

"Lucius," Regulus said, nodding.

"Afternoon, Regulus. I've just had a fine chat with your parents, though I must admit I excused myself before too long because I have news to share with you." Lucius said, drawing the leather seat against the wall up to Regulus' desk and taking a seat. Regulus sat after he had and watched him, ignorant of what had prompted this visit.

"Kalman is ours," Lucius said simply.

Regulus grinned. "It was only a matter of time."

"The schedule you and Bella got out of the Secretary was most helpful. It took a very powerful Imperius Curse, but he's ours. And we were able to get bits of hair from those around him, guarding him, and from other top officials and so we've replaced three of his people with our people. The Dark Lord is well pleased."

"The Ministry was effectively ours already anyway," Regulus replied. "This is just the cherry on top."

Lucius chuckled. "Quite."

"Aren't there Order people around Kalman?"

"Oh yes," Lucius replied, looking smug. "But as of right now they're unaware of just how far our control now extends. We're keeping an eye on them as they protect Kalman." He smirked with amusement and Regulus chuckled.

"Excellent."

"I heard the Secretary job was a bit of a messy business," Lucius commented, back to seriousness. "I imagine scenes such as that must be distasteful to you. There is little excuse for Mulciber—he leads with a curse, and it would never occur to him that there are other ways of carrying out the Dark Lord's wishes, and as for your cousin, well, she has her own way of going about things that to the rest of us is often disturbing, albeit effective. I simply wish to reassure you that this was an isolated incident."

Regulus nodded. Lucius was speaking as if to a child and it pricked Regulus' nerves. He thought it wise to say nothing.

Lucius continued, "You see, this is one of the difficulties of building a new regime. There will always be some who see it as a chance for acts of depravity excused as necessary but which are in fact nothing more than laziness." He leaned forward. "There _will_ come a time when those less willing to embrace the world that wants to be created will be made to choose acceptance or their own destruction."

"We will give them every chance first, but if they choose to try and stand against natural forces, they have damned themselves," Regulus agreed, nodding, though in his head he was snarling at Lucius and his slippery lies disguised as logic. And to think he had once fallen for such bollocks.

"Yes, exactly," Lucius said, smiling. "Those who cannot cope with change by definition have damned themselves. You're one of our few who truly understands, Regulus. One of the reasons the Dark Lord values you. Some of our number—Mulciber, Bella, Rabastian—revel only in the destruction of the old order and lack the ability to see the creation of the new. But you, my friend, like myself, have a broader vision."

Regulus nodded. "Thank you, Lucius. There always must be both, creation and destruction…to have one, you must have the other. Mulciber is a blunt tool I grant you, but Bella is brilliant at what she does. It's like an art form. I take little credit for the Secretary job—I merely sat back and watched her work."

"Ah, always the humble one," Lucius said, smiling as he stood to take his leave. "Yes, Bellatrix is…well, she's effective. I tend to find her methods rather much for my sensibilities, but if you can see the art in it, more power to you, my boy."

_His sensitivities_. Tosh. Lucius was just as capable as Bella to witness and perform acts of unspeakable cruelty and torture. Regulus had seen it.

"My cousins are remarkable women," Regulus commented with a smile, opening the door for his guest.

Lucius nodded, also smiling. "Quite. I happen to be meeting the loveliest of them for dinner, so I will take my leave."

"Always a pleasure, Lucius."

Lucius smiled his serpent's smile at Regulus a last time before Apparating out. Regulus' eyes and expression darkened dramatically the moment Lucius had gone. He stalked back to his desk, snarling and cussing Lucius inside. Lucius' argument was that some actions, though reprehensible, were for the greater good and justifiable in their effect. How often had this mantra been voiced? It echoed throughout history, always the excuse when power was amassed through ugly means. An argument of Italian philosophers in the time of the city-states, and of Gellert Grindelwald in the tide of his rising power. According to them, power can and is entitled to make its own rules. But Lenna had told him once when he had been sharing the argument for a properly-regulated world, that no matter who takes it upon themselves to decide what's proper, there will always end up being a whole new set of problems—problems which are always worse when a minority decides what's right for the majority.

No revolution ever really succeeds in making its world better—it simply swaps old problems for new problems. Lucius' argument was hollow. Power was its own argument. It was all the Dark Lord was after. There was no noble fight, no greater good. Just greed and ambition, ambition and greed. And a genius standing on a throne of bodies and fear, immersed in dark magic so deeply that it would take an army to dethrone him.

Regulus was not an army. But someone needed to find the key that could open the door for the army. Someone needed to provide the world with the chance.

…

"Janet wants to see both of us in…" Lenna trailed off as she walked into her coworker's office to see him standing on his desk and swiping a hand toward a screeching owl that had managed to squeeze itself into a shelf on the top of a cabinet in the office, obviously exceedingly terrified. Feathers littered his desk and the floor. A giggle escaped Lenna's lips before she could help it, and she tried to straighten her face as the man turned to glare at her.

"This _toss pot_ of a _bird_ found its way to my office instead of just dropping its post into the mail slot—and—I can't—_get it_—"

"You can't 'get it'?" Lenna repeated as she leaned against the doorframe and watched the man tip precariously on his tiptoes as the owl screeched. "Are you a wizard or not, Mclusky?"

Mathew Mclusky stopped and blinked at her. "Oh—right—yeah—" He brandished his wand and there was a loud explosion of feathers and wood. The shelf under which the bird was cowering was blown to shreds and the owl now flapping around the ceiling was—if possible—more terrified.

"Merlin, don't _kill_ it!" Lenna cried. She pounced on Mclusky's upraised arm before he could do more damage. "Stop, stop stop. Let me get it. Go tell Janet where I am and that it's _your_ fault we're late."

Mclusky huffed out of his office, muttering, "Don't go stealing my notes."

"Oh yeah, because I'm _dying_ to do a story on the Countess' spoiled brat heir—"

"Shut up, Albeney."

Lenna laughed and turned to look up at the owl now sitting trembling on Mclusky's desk.

"Here, sweetie," she cooed gently. "The scary psycho's gone, it's just me and you. C'mon, c'mon, honey, that's it…"

The owl relaxed and hopped slowly over to Lenna. Lenna did a healing charm on the bird and its feathers zoomed from the floor and the desk and reattached themselves to the owl's general surprise. As it fluffed its wings and shook its head, Lenna untied the letter attached to its leg with quick fingers. It was a small thing folded into a little square and tied with a thin red ribbon. Lenna pocketed it and seeing its job was done, the owl took off and flew through the door.

Lenna slipped into the meeting as Anderson was speaking in the front of the conference room, and he gave her a look.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Albeney," he said with a hard expression.

"I apologize, sir. I hope Mclusky explained the situation."

"An owl issue."

"An owl issue," she agreed, nodding.

"Yes. Well. I hope it was sorted out. Now…" As Anderson continued bringing them up to speed on the latest events being covered this week, Lenna subtly tossed the letter into Mclusky's lap. He unfolded it and read it, keeping it out of sight below the table. Lenna watched out of the corner of her eye as he blushed and tried to keep back a grin as if he'd just being given some sort of reward. She gave him a questioning look but he ignored her.

"Also, Henry and Danny, the Secretary for the Minister—Ian Curnow—is missing, and I need you two to cover the story on his replacement. History, family, career—"

"Mr. Anderson," Janet interrupted. All eyes in the room came to her. One didn't just _interrupt_ Anderson. "Mr. Anderson, the Secretary didn't go _missing_, he and his wife were found brutally _murdered_ in their home. Martin Thatchgate from MLI was with the team that found the bodies. Curnow was a high-ranking Ministry official with _full_ access to the Minister and the inner workings of the Ministry—they could've gotten _anything_ out of him, and our Minister could be in very great danger. With all of that on the line, we can't just run a story on his _replacement_."

Anderson gazed at her, frowning, his hands resting on the top of his pot belly. "Ms. Winehouse, I have it directly from the Minister himself that he is fully protected and wishes not to alarm the public by running the full details of this particular incident."

"Wish all due respect, sir, I think the public would rather be _informed_ than protected—"

"That is enough, Ms. Winehouse."

Janet shut her mouth and sat back in her chair with her arms crossed.

"We will run the story as Minister Kalman has requested, and that is all for today, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy your lunch hour."

As everyone packed up, Janet was growling under her breath. "Is there no such thing as free press anymore? We're supposed to be separated from government jurisdiction, not like another branch of the bleeding Ministry…"

"Is that true, Janet?" Lenna asked. "That the Secretary and his wife were murdered and we're lying to say they just went missing?"

"Yes, it's lying," Janet growled under her breath. She waited a moment before the last two reporters had left the conference room before continuing to Mathew and Lenna, "Martin was there, he saw everything. Ian looked as if he'd been tortured. I don't even want to think of what they got out of him. But Martin says they're hushing it all up over in MLI too."

"The Ministry's concealing a lot these days," Lenna commented in a low voice.

Janet nodded, looking sour. "And the _Prophet_ is too, by extension. It's horse shite. It's a conspiracy is what it is. Government control of the press."

"Well, you better not go on pissing off Anderson again, or he'll sack you," Mclusky muttered. "And you two used to get on alright."

"Yeah, before he sold out," Janet growled. "Stupid codger…"

"What was that letter about?" Lenna asked Mclusky, suddenly remembering his blush. "You got all red!"

Mathew shrugged very unconvincingly. "Some lady really likes my work."

"Got a secret admirer, have you?" Janet asked, smirking. "You watch out. A guy I worked with—Greg—got some letters like that and was kidnapped one day at work. They found him a couple weeks later at woman's house transfigured into a macaw."

Mclusky blinked at her, startled, as Lenna giggled.

"I don't think it's like that," he finally replied, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity as the other two laughed at him.

"Oh, _Mathew_, your story on the loo at the Leaky Cauldron was just _sooo inspiring_…" Lenna teased. Mclusky shot her a glare as they walked down the hall.

"Merlin's _beard_, Lenna, look at that rock on your finger!" Janet suddenly breathed, pushing back her frizzy dark hair streaked gently with gray. She grabbed Lenna's hand and stared at the engagement ring. "This what it looks like?"

"Oh…yeah," Lenna admitted, embarrassed. "Yes, I'm engaged."

"To who?" Mclusky asked, snorting. "I didn't even know you had a boyfriend."

"Well, we're keeping things quiet."

"He must be loaded—look at this thing," Janet remarked, grinning. Lenna laughed.

"We should toast to this," Janet said. "This is big! I have some smooth stuff in my office." She slung an arm around both Lenna and Mathew's shoulders as they walked down the hall. "You two are good kids, you know that? And whoever he is, Lenna dear, he's a lucky man."

…


	29. CHAPTER 29: PAPER AND LACE

**CHAPTER 29: PAPER AND LACE  
><strong>

…

"There's nothing half so sweet in life

As love's young dream."

-Thomas Moore

…

**L**enna was awake long past the hour she should've been asleep, staring at the empty right side of the bed. It was cool in her apartment, and the sheets and pillowcase were chilled. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and closed her eyes; as always she wished her fiancé were beside her. Or at least that she knew what he was doing… It had been a long week without him—or news of him. She looked at her clock. Well, a week and a day now. It had been longer before, but still…

Feeling as if she wasn't going to get to sleep any time soon, she sat up and lit the candle beside her with her wand. She reached onto her nightstand and pulled off of it the issue of _Witch Wedding _she'd picked up from the market earlier that day. Flipping through the pages, she browsed the photographs of beaming women in wedding gowns twirling in the arms of handsome men in dress robes. A hand was arranging a vase of orange and pink flowers in one corner, and the first article was about home-made decorations. Lenna was glad she wasn't one of those girls who'd dreamed about an enormous perfect wedding since they were little. She wanted something very small, low-key and relatively inexpensive, but that still had a lightness and an elegance to it. It could be achieved with small things: candles, flowers, the location, the people, and simple clothing.

She flipped the pages absently, chewing on her lower lip. Then she restlessly tossed the magazine aside and leaned back against the headboard, missing Regulus like an ache.

Her eyes flicked to the bedroom door as she heard the apartment door opening. She reached over to grasp her wand and held it next to her as soft footsteps came right to her bedroom. The door was slowly opened and a delighted smile spread over Lenna's face and the hand on her wand relaxed.

"You know, I was just wishing for you to be here," she said. "And now here you are."

Regulus smiled, dropped his cloak, pulled off his shoes at the end of her bed. "You should be sleeping," he replied gently.

"So should you."

"Mm. I haven't tried yet but it's always easier with you in my arms." Regulus got into her bed and crawled to hover over his grinning fiancé. He lowered his head to kiss her; she wrapped herself around him and threw herself into the kiss with abandon. They rolled slowly around the bed, molding themselves to each other. Lenna finally lifted her mouth from his with a sigh, pressing her forehead to his neck and closing her eyes. She breathed him in, cherishing this embrace, this closeness. His body against hers, his arms tight around her. Regulus was peppering her skin with light kisses; her face, her ears her neck. He breathed her name.

"You forgot to ask me a question when I came in," he chastised gently. His voice was somewhat hoarse with emotion.

"No one could duplicate your kiss," she breathed back. She felt his chuckle shake them both slightly.

"I've missed you," he murmured.

"I haven't missed you a single bit," she joked, but as she spoke her arms tightened around him. Regulus chuckled again. He lay back on his back and Lenna followed his movement, snuggling into his chest. He kept his arms around her and kissed her hair.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he replied. "But I'm going to be gone for a little while."

"How long?"

"It all depends on if I find what I'm looking for. Maybe a week."

"What're you looking for?"

"I can't tell you that, sweetheart."

Lenna nodded. "Is this dangerous?"

"Not really."

"'Kay."

"Have you picked a date yet?"

"For the wedding?"

"No, for joining the circus," he teased.

She smacked his waist and he laughed. "No, I haven't."

"Well, October's coming up, love."

"Do you want it as soon as possible?"

"To be quite honest, yes. Without rushing it, though."

She looked up at him, smiling. "Huh. Get a load of this. A man who wants to be married as soon as possible. What a rare creature."

Regulus rolled his eyes.

"Well, it just so happens that I've begun to plan a little already." She picked up the magazine she'd tossed to the end of the bed and Regulus chuckled.

"Anything you particularly want at it?" she asked him.

"You to become my wife."

Lenna laughed. "I suppose I can arrange that. My father's old friend Gregory can officiate. I'd like Stephanie and Ellen to be there as bridesmaids, but I know that wouldn't be smart. Only Cal and Grace and Mum and Dad can be there. Maybe not even Mum…I'll have to talk to Cal about whether or not we should include her in the secret. She would be vulnerable… Anyone on your side?"

Regulus almost said "Sirius," but he knew he shouldn't. The less people to know, the better. "No. No one from my side."

"Shall we set a date?"

"First week in October. Saturday or Sunday."

"How about Sunday the 3rd?"

"Perfect." He kissed the top of her head. "At—when shall it be? How 'bout eleven in the morning."

"At Connoway Park."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's only three weeks away, Reg."

"Were it tomorrow."

She laughed and kissed his chest. "Were it tomorrow."

Regulus tilted her head back with his fingers under her chin to kiss her. The world stilled and Lenna felt a familiar warm hook deep in her lower belly. She slid her arms up around him and there were no more words between them.

…

The morning light drifted in through the small window in Lenna's apartment bedroom and she found her face burred in a pillow, the covers up to her bare waist, and one arm hanging down over the side of the bed. She lifted her head and sensed Regulus' absence. She lay her head back down onto the pillow, frowning and missing him already. Blinking, she realized she was gazing at something new on her bedside table: a white vase with a piece of parchment rolled inside it sticking out.

She reached out a hand to the parchment and when she pulled it out, green stems slowly shot up from inside the vase, growing leaves and buds and sprouting into a beautiful arrangement of red, pink, and white roses that smelled lovely. Lenna smiled and unrolled the parchment so see Regulus' writing.

_Good morning beautiful. I'll miss you. Stay safe. _

_I shouldn't be gone too long and I look forward to the 3__rd__. _

_I love you. _

_Always yours,_

_Regulus_

Lenna placed the parchment back onto the table and snuggled back down into the pillows, wondering what Regulus was off doing. Work for You-Know-Who? Would he be hurting people? She knew it was necessary that he play by their rules to remain under the radar, but it was still hard to think about. She knew it hurt him every time he hurt someone else. She didn't know if he had been required to murder yet.

She pushed off her covers and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. She would send an owl to Grace to see if she could stop by today or in the next days to start planning for the little ceremony. She hadn't even told the two she was engaged yet. Lenna giggled to herself. That might be interesting.

Grace answered her owl that day that she only had morning classes and Lenna was welcome to come by. When she Apparated there, she saw the trees in Calun and Grace's neighborhood had begun to change color and the walk to the house was beautiful. There was the early, crisp smell of autumn in the air and Lenna breathed it in, smiling, as she walked up the drive and up to the porch. She knocked smartly and Grace answered the door, beaming.

"Hi Lenna—how are you?"

"I'm well, Grace, thanks. How're you?" Lenna shrugged off her light jacket and hung it on their coat stand.

"I'm great."

"It smells good in here."

"Oh, I was just readying something for dinner."

"Could I help? We can talk while we finish up."

Grace smiled. "Alright." She led Lenna into the kitchen and Lenna washed her hands.

"So what's on your mind?" Grace asked. "Your owl said you wanted to talk about something."

Lenna cleared her throat and then simply turned toward Grace and held out the hand with the engagement ring on it. Grace's confused eyes dropped to her hand and then they widened with surprise and understanding.

"Oh! Oh, he—"

"Proposed, yeah," Lenna finished for her, smiling. "It will be a very small under-the-radar affair on October 3rd. But I need help planning it."

Grace's expression was aglow. "Of course! Oh, I'd love to help! October 3rd! Does Calun know?"

Lenna shook her head. "Not yet."

Grace wagged a finger at her. "You could've at least sent an owl or something."

"I'm just getting used to the idea myself, Grace," she replied. "I'm only now ready for what I'm sure will be Cal's best attempts to talk me out of it."

"Oh, he wouldn't," Grace said, waving her delicate hand. "Anyone who has seen you two together can tell how serious your relationship is. And with all the danger that poor boy's facing…" She trailed off, looking at Lenna and biting her lip, obviously rethinking what she had been about to say. But Lenna finished, "The sooner the better because there might not be a later. Yeah."

Grace looked upset. "There will be a later, Lenna. There will."

Lenna smiled and lightened her expression with "Yes. He and I will have little black-haired children and get really fat."

Grace giggled. "Exactly. So where do you want the ceremony to be? Ooh, and what do you want to wear? You'd look _gorgeous_ in soft off-white lace, Lenna. And what kind of flowers? Calun has told me you like lilacs and lilies and gardenias, and if you wanted to carry an autumn theme there are always orange roses and carnations…"

…


	30. CHAPTER 30: GORMLESS GIT

**CHAPTER 30: GORMLESS GIT  
><strong>

…

"I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea."

-Dylan Thomas

…

"**Y**ou're _WHAT_?"

"Getting married."

"_WHAT_?"

"Getting married. Tying the knot. Getting hitched. Dropping the anchor. Jumping the broom. October 3rd."

Cal's mouth was mashed into an interesting shape. "Why so bloody _soon_?!"

"Because we just want to piss you off," Lenna shot back, losing her patience. "It's happening, Cal, and I just thought you should know."

"You're too _young_!"

Her expression was steely. "Keep diggin' yourself a hold there, you great prick."

"You—Lenna—he—_too young_!" he yelled again. "My little sister getting married before I do—I mean have you even _known_ this guy long enough to even have any _idea_—"

"Thank you for your well-wishes, respect and support, Calun." Her tone was weary. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're happy for me." She turned and left the house.

Cal dropped moodily onto the couch, his arms crossed. Grace was standing and frowning at him, her arms also crossed.

"That was not well-handled, Calun."

Cal made an incoherent growl. "Do _you_ honestly think that that's the right thing for them to do?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. "She loves him enough to go through everything she's going through. She loves him quite well enough to marry him."

"It seems wrong. Too hasty."

"You're being a gormless git."

Cal blinked, surprised. "Gee, Gracie, why don't you tell me how you really feel?"

When Grace's expression did not lighten, Cal lost his smirk.

"She came here wanting to share her happiness and you cut into her," Grace continued. "It was unkind. She's an adult, Cal. And I don't think it's a stretch to say that she might know Regulus—and herself _and_ what she wants in life—a little bit better than you do. It's natural for you to be protective and to think that no one's good enough for her, but Calun, she's likely in tears right now."

Cal sighed and dropped his head into his hands. "Alright. You're right. I'm sorry. It was all just a bit much."

"I'm not the one who needs to hear that apology," Grace said, her tone gentled.

Cal nodded as he stood and kissed her once on her forehead before leaving the house to go after his sister.

He Apparated to her apartment and knocked repeatedly on the locked door.

"I'm sorry; I interrupted your tirade, didn't I?" Lenna called. "Well get it all out, buddy. What else do you have to say?"

"How 'bout 'I'm sorry'," he sighed.

"Grace got miffed at you, didn't she?"

"…Maybe."

"Well, I'm glad you have someone who can tell it to you straight."

"Aye, bless her heart. You gonna let me in?"

"No, I demand more groveling."

Cal chuckled. "Look, Len, I admit to being a bit overwhelmed by this, but I've seen you and that damn bloke together, and anyone could tell this was the next step for you…I just didn't expect it right away. And I know your lives are unpredictable and that's why you want to rush it. And I know you'll be happy. But more importantly, I'm happy _for_ you. I'm happy you're happy. Alright? Blimey, I hate this mushy stuff. Put me out of my misery, here."

Lenna opened the door and Cal continued, grinning, as he pulled her into his arms. "I'm ecstatic. I'm overjoyed. I'm enveloped in delight. I'm most eagerly awaiting the day of your wedded bliss."

She laughed. "Liar."

"Yeah, well, still. Come on back to the house and we'll plan this little shindig, alright? I know Gracie would be good at it."

"Oh, we've been planning since noon."

"O, conspiracy!"

"Okay, Brutus. Let's go. I want some of her dinner, anyway. It smelled good."

…

Dismal place.

Upon Apparating in front of the old orphanage in the cold, gray rain, doubt had immediately surfaced in Regulus' mind about whether the Dark Lord would ever choose this dreary place as the location of his precious soul fragment. Gazing solemnly through the pour at the building's tarnished nameplate, he considered things.

This place symbolized a bleak time in Tom Riddle's past—a time he'd probably much sooner forget than commemorate with a trophy. On the other hand, this was the place Riddle had first used his magic, first learned about who he was as a wizard, and first used it against people and begin cutting the path of his rise to power. Regulus cast a quick deterrent charm on himself so that curious Muggle eyes would take minimal notice of him and then walked slowly around the building, searching for signs of magic and magical concealment. Around the buildings and its grounds he found nothing, but was not discouraged.

He pushed open the heavy door of the orphanage and went inside. He walked along a dim hall until he found a study area where a heavyset woman was working behind a desk.

"_Imperio_."

Regulus had her search through their files and pull out everything they had on Thomas Marvolo Riddle; the rooms had had lived in during his time here and his behavioral records. They contained only a bit more than Dumbledore had related, and Regulus memorized the numbers of the three rooms that had one by one been home to Riddle during his childhood. He was most interested in any items of significance Riddle had in his possession, but unfortunately the records said his mother had died leaving him absolutely nothing but a name. Disappointing. With no more information to glean from the secretary, Regulus put her to sleep and then walked down the creaky wooden floors of the place. He climbed a staircase and began down another hallway.

Two small boys no older than four or five were standing in the doorframe and when they saw him, the eyes in their small faces widened with fear and they disappeared into the room. As he passed, Regulus looked in and saw the two staring at him from the end of their beds. He was shaken by their expressions; he remembered fearing tall, dark strangers as a boy, but to become one in the eyes of the two was disconcerting. In a dark mood, Regulus caught sight of his reflection in a long mirror at the end of the hall. The pale face above the collar of the black cloak was cold and haughty. It had a darkness and a self-assurance in its eyes that was intimidating.

Regulus turned away down the next hall.

He came to the first room and it irritated him that there were three boys in it. He stunned all of them and went about his search. Finding no traces of magical concealment, he cleared the recent memories of the children and continued through the orphanage. The other two rooms were conveniently empty, but neither of them held any hints or traces. Ah well. He hadn't really expected the Dark Lord to hide half his soul in a Muggle orphanage.

The downpour outside greeted him with a gust of cold wind smelling of the sea. It had grown darker. Regulus shivered but knew he'd rather stay on these cobblestones all day then brave the place he was about to enter.

But he needed to speak to Morfin.

…


	31. CHAPTER 31: THE LOCKET

**Chapter 31: The Locket**

…

"No idea is so outlandish that it should not be considered with a searching but at the same time a steady eye."

-Winston Churchill

…

**T**he seeping cold reached the marrow of his bones as Regulus followed a dementor guard down a stone corridor. The lamps along the wall went from a pale white glow to feeble flickering as the guard floated past. Though none of their energies were particularly directed toward Regulus, the gnawing depression they created and thrived in affected him regardless. It seemed like a doomed fool's mission, trying to find this Horcrux. Who did he think he was, staking his wits against the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever seen? And who was he to even say one existed? He was just stabbing ignorantly in the dark.

He could feel the darkness inside him with a new sense. He saw the eyes of the men he had tortured, the women who had lost their families because of him. He saw himself as the orphanage mirror had seen him: a murderer and a shell. The kind of man he had never wanted to become. A man he hated. He could run all he wanted, but the hate-filled legacy of his family would always catch up to him. He couldn't outrun who he really was. Couldn't outrun his own nature. A nature and a future as black as his name.

He tried to think of Lenna; tried to find that buoying sense of purpose that always accompanied thoughts of her. She was what stood between him and that chasm. All this struggling was for her. But that sense of purpose failed to solidify inside him. In his mind he knew it was the dementors sucking that happiness from him, feeding off of his attempts to fortify his spirits, but in his heart all he could find was despair. Everything he was striving for was so futile. If he did not already know everything, the Dark Lord inevitably would, and Regulus would come home to Lenna's apartment one night to find his love cold, without life in her eyes. Voldemort would continue his battle for power until one by one everyone and everything fell at his feet. There was nothing he cared for. No rules or morals he had to stand by. He had nothing to lose. There was nothing to approach him with. Resistance to his grip on power was dust blown in the face of the wind.

The monotone of a muttering lunatic in the shadows of a cell reached Regulus' ears in the dimness and another—a woman—cried out sharply as they passed. He brought his arms closer against his sides and took a long, fortifying breath. Even stripped of anything that gave him joy and purpose, at Regulus' core there was still a rod of iron. He stiffened his jaw and kept his head up, keeping in the front of his mind his reason for being in his hellhole. This hellhole that was a farce of a jail these days—all the impressive criminals were out free in the world courtesy of the Dark Lord.

Regulus almost stumbled when the dementor in front of him stopped in front of a cell.

"Right," he said, his voice loud in the echoing corridor and a bit shakier than he had intended. "When I'm done visiting the prisoner, I'll go to the guard at the end of the hall and he can escort me out. Leave us."

The dementor breathed shallowly in a rattling rasp and Regulus steeled himself against the sharp edge of despair that sliced at him from the inside as if in response. The creature's breath reeked of decay and filth. Images of the deaths he'd witnessed and been a part of played in front of his eyes. Regulus gritted his teeth and the dementor turned and floated away from him.

The lantern's white glow returned to regular strength as the dementor withdrew, and by its light Regulus was able to better see the man within. Morfin Gaunt was sitting on the stone against the far wall, his face hidden. His gray clothing and the cell in which he sat were clean and empty, but his black hair was tangled and matted and his nails longer than normal with blackness caked beneath them.

Regulus squatted in front of the cell.

"Morfin?" he asked, his voice emotionless. "Morfin Gaunt?"

It took a minute of waiting but finally Morfin lifted his ragged and sneering face in Regulus' direction and moved slowly toward him.

"Who's this as wants to know?" he asked back in an ugly deep voice that he had manipulated to make high-pitched and mocking. Regulus could tell just by looking at Morfin's darting eyes that his hinges had loosened. It was no great surprise that prolonged time in Azkaban drove the prisoners insane.

"I have questions for you, Morfin," he articulated clearly. "Questions about your sister Merope."

Morfin let out a violent hiss and his limbs stiffened. "Shut your mouth!"

Regulus gazed emotionlessly at him. "Tell me about your sister Merope, Morfin."

Morfin hissed again and mid-hiss he suddenly froze and answered, "No sister I has. No Merope. Disowned she was." He shook his head side-to-side, eyes wide. "Brainless, brainless, nasty little Squib! Bringing such shame to our family, our ancient family! What has become of it?" He looked heartbreakingly desolate quite suddenly. "So low, so poor, so shamed…the ancient line, so noble…ah, ah, ah…" He clutched at the skin of his sallow cheeks. "_And she the end of us_!"

Regulus kept quiet as Morfin clutched his head.

"I said to father…" he mumbled, trailing off. "We…and dinner was burned…"

Regulus grimaced. The man was muttering about nothing particularly coherent. "Morfin. Morfin, listen. Your sister Merope she left, didn't she?"

But Morfin seemed not to hear him. "They came to take us… The blood, purer than theirs could _ever_ be…" He suddenly grasped the bars of his cell and moved as if trying to shake them. "_Shame! _ I—no, I—I didn't, I—father, make them—_no_, _no_…the dust…and the pots…she—_they took me away_!" Morfin cried. His shoulders shook. "Ah, no…" His arms fell to his sides and his head hung as if he could no longer support it.

Regulus gave him a minute. He was about to open his mouth to try and prompt the man again, when Morfin's head snapped up and he fixed his dark, beady eyes on Regulus'.

"She runned away with that Muggle man-filth. Muggle scum, filled with ashes. No mind for the magic. Living like animals. Watched him, she did, like 'e was the meaning of it all. Out the dirty window like a filthy whore. Her _teensy_ mind got all filled with him.

"Tooked off. Left her family sos she could wallow in the animal filth. You want to know about her?" he asked in a low voice that sounded as if it were coming from a dead throat. He was suddenly yelling again. "_Worse than a nobody_! _Stealing lump of nasty Muggle-loving scum_! Nicked the locket, she did…took off with ol' Salazar's locket…oh, how father…"

"A locket? What did she do with this locket, do you know? Morfin?" Regulus demanded, but Morfin had reduced to desolate, senseless muttering again. He lay down on the floor murmuring nonsense to himself and Regulus stood up.

His mind was whirring.

Merope took an object with her when she left her home to elope with Muggle Thomas Riddle. Did she take it to trade it for gold or as her son's inheritance? Dumbledore had said Tom had no possessions to his name at the orphanage, so she must have traded it for money. Could the young Voldemort have learned of its existence somehow? Perhaps he had gotten it out of Morfin—Dumbledore had surmised that he had visited his old home the day Riddle Senior and his new family were murdered and Morfin convicted for it. He could've gotten the whole history from him and Morfin's father—was Morfin's father alive at the time? Or was he in Azkaban? Regulus couldn't remember the timeline, but he was sure if Voldemort had met his uncle, he would've learned of the locket. And gone in search of it, as it was his birthright.

Regulus almost grinned but then his buoyant feeling of accomplishment was leeched out of him. He turned to scowl at the dementor at the end of the hall.

_Trying to plan and theorize in Azkaban_, he muttered to himself with dark irony. _What am I thinking_? Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he strode toward the dementor, eager to be led out of the place.

…

Regulus sat down on the springy mattress in the Muggle hotel room that was his for the night and pulled his notes out of the dresser to pour over again. Obviously his next place to search was the old Riddle home, then the Gaunt home (if it was still there), then Borgin and Burkes, and possibly an attempt to trace his doings after Smith's murder, though he doubted that was at all possible. It would be a long few days.

…

Calun gently draped a blanket over his sleeping little sister snuggled into an armchair in their living room. Grace watched him with soft eyes and he came over to sit next to her on the couch. She cuddled into him as he lifted an arm to put it around her.

"I should take care of the dishes," she murmured.

"I've got them tonight, love," he replied. Grace smiled and lay her head down on his shoulder.

"I can't believe that little one's getting married…" Cal sighed, passing a hand across his forehead. "All this talk of food and flowers and clothes…I kept picturing her in a wedding dress and it was rough."

Grace chuckled and then sighed gently. "She'll be beautiful, Cal."

Calun was quiet and then murmured, "I'm just so worried about her, Gracie. All the time. I know how much she and him love one another, but I also know how likely it is for him to get ripped out of her life. Imagine, Gracie. She gets married to him—she pledges her love and her life to him—and then he's gone. Would she even…would she even survive that? I think that's why I wanted to fight this."

"Our experiences make us who we are," Grace replied gently. "Let her experience this love of hers, come what may. You wouldn't be able to separate them now, anyway. You know that. They've proved that."

"I know." Calun lifted a hand to stroke her hair gently. "All this wedding talk has been making me think about ours."

Grace opened her eyes wide with surprise and pulled back to look at him. "Ours?"

"Well, I have to talk with your father sometime first, but yeah, ours. Did you really think I was gonna let a lass like you get away?"

Grace threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

…


	32. CHAPTER 32: ONE WEEK GONE

**Chapter 32: One Week Gone**

…

_"A mother's treasure is her daughter."__  
><em>-Catherine Pulsifer

…

**F**ailure.

That was the only word ringing in Regulus' head.

Failure.

It bounced off the walls of his skull with a hollow clattering echo. He was ragged and dirty, unshaven, without a shower in days, and he had followed every one of Dumbledore's leads and other leads he'd found while following them. And they all had led to nothing. Even if they had led to something, how could he have _known_ it was even something? He had done everything he knew how to reveals signs of magic concealment everywhere he went, and still discovered nothing. Of course Lord Voldemort would've hidden his Horcrux with the greatest care and power imaginable…

He kicked a tin can on the dark street and it rattled as it hit the ground again and rolled. The hands stuffed in his robe pockets bunched into fists.

He glanced up as a spotted owl flew silently over above him. It made him think of Lenna; an odd sensation because it made him feel both relaxed with affection and riddled with guilt that he had failed in this personal mission to try and make them both safer. He would see her soon. He was in need of the comfort of her embrace.

Failure…

The hair on the back of Regulus' neck suddenly prickled. His fists loosened and his right hand twitched to hold his wand as he got the feeling he was being watched. Unsure of where the feeling was coming from, Regulus' sharp eyes darted around his dark Muggle surroundings. There was nothing here a fully grown wizard shouldn't be able to overmaster, and Regulus kept walking, his eyes narrow. From down the street, a Muggle man—Regulus could tell by his jacket—was walking toward him down the opposite side of the street. Regulus continued at the same pace toward him as well and it seemed as though they would pass one another without danger. Perhaps he had only heard the man's approaching footsteps and that was what had made him wary?

Thinking these thoughts, he saw the wand too late.

The stunning spells that got him, however, came from behind.

…

"Do I even get to meet him?"

"Mum, I told you. He's off on business right now, but you'll meet him as soon as we can arrange it."

"And is he a good wizard and—?"

"Please, Mrs. Albeney, keep your voice down," Grace interjected, glancing worriedly over to the door of the fitting room. Marisa Albeney frowned. For some reason she had not taken to Grace well. It might've been her accent.

"Excuse me for wanting to know about the young man my daughter is apparently marrying and who I've never met in my life," she replied with more than a hint of sourness. Lenna almost regretted letting her mother in on the marriage.

"Regulus is wonderful, Mrs. Albeney, and I'm sure you'll like him," Grace replied patiently. Marisa pursed her lips and watched as Grace adjusted the white dress Lenna was in, pins sticking out of her blonde bun of hair.

"It's just all too sudden."

"I know, Mum. I'm sorry about that," said Lenna.

"And can't you just do all this with magic?" Marisa asked, her hands on her slender hips.

"Mum, _hush_—the lady will hear you."

"It's more fun this way," Grace answered her lightly. "More real." She stepped back to look at Lenna. "It's awfully simple—are you sure you don't want a fancier one?"

Lenna gazed at herself in the mirrors around them. The dress was a very simple and elegant strapless with a strip of silver lace wrapped around beneath the bodice. She nodded. "It's exactly what I want."

"And you're sure you don't want my dress a certain color?"

"Everyone can wear whatever they want," she replied. "There's only going to be seven people there, including Regulus and I. We want it small, simple, and short."

"It's ridiculous that this all has to be so secretive," Marisa muttered. Lenna shot her a long, stern look. Despite Cal's caution, Lenna had explained to her mother that Regulus' work was top secret in the wizarding world and that details about who he really was or about her marriage to him being made public would put not only them but the entire family in danger. Marisa was not an overly sweet or motherly woman, and she was often selfish, but she had always been a steady fixture in Lenna's life, and after all, she was her mother. Lenna felt she could trust her to understand the gravity of the circumstances—not to do so could potentially put her in even more danger.

"Mum. I already explained to you why it has to be kept quiet," Lenna replied sternly. "I don't mind the wedding being small and simple. I prefer it that way." Grace was helping her get out of her dress while Marisa patted at her hair as she looked in one of the mirrors.

"And you're sure you don't want a wedding planner or—?"

"Do you know what a secret _is_, mum?" Lenna shot back.

Marisa sighed. "Fine."

They purchased the dress and continued down the street. The September day was warm and trees were turning in varying colors and degrees of rapidity.

"Ready to go?" Grace asked. The clatter and bustle of the Muggle world was more irritating to her than it was to Lenna or her mother.

"You can go on back," Lenna replied. "I'm going to take Mum home."

Grace nodded and stepped into the shade of a building to Apparate. Lenna shifted the weight of the bag in her hand and gestured to a smallish park down the street. "You want to go see the park?"

"I'm not dressed for it," Marisa replied, the corners of her lips turning down.

Lenna rolled her eyes indulgently. "You never are, Mum. Alright, I'll take you home. Are you sure you want to Side-Along Apparate? I know how you don't like it."

"It's only awful for a moment, and then I'm where I want to be, so I'll take it over public transport any day. Where's a good place?"

"Over here." Lenna led her to the side of the building and when no Muggles were crossing in front of them, Lenna clasped her arm and Apparated in front of their drive. She had placed protective enchantments on her family home which prohibited Apparition directly into the house, among other things. Their house was a two-story brick home in the Muggle suburbs of London, narrow but extended in the back. It had a one-car garage her dad had magically extended to fit three vehicles and a workshop. The two walked up the drive and Lenna flicked her wand to open the lock and turn on some of the lights inside. She set her bag down in the entryway and looked around. She hadn't been in her childhood home in a while. Her mother had restyled the living room again.

She made her way into the familiar kitchen and poured herself some water, listening to her mother slip off her shoes, scoop up the mail from the entryway floor, and climb the stairs to her room as she went absently through it—as was her habit.

She leaned against the counter. Regulus had been gone a week. The firelight in the ring on her finger flared a warm red-orange with thoughts of him rising to the surface of her mind. She wasn't overly worried about his absence, though. He'd been gone longer without any word. Plus he had assured her his traveling wouldn't be dangerous.

She began to magically clean and tidy the house as she walked around it, sipping at her water. Without its usual clutter, the place looked quite nice. She smiled at old framed pictures of her and her brother up on the walls or on the tall fireplace mantle in-between model cars her dad had placed there—one of which she was fairly certain was an actual car he had simply shrunk to the size of a model.

Marisa had converted Cal's bedroom for her own personal use, but since Lenna did not have her own permanent house yet, her bedroom remained intact. She went upstairs quietly and pushed open her door. The room smelled faintly of lilac from the numerous candles Lenna had placed about. Something catching her eye in the light of the windows, she walked over to her bed. Placed on the comforter was a beautiful pair of white heels and a little white velvet box with sparking diamond earrings in them. Lenna recognized both from wedding photos of her mother and smiled tenderly, realizing Marisa had put them here for her.

…


	33. CHAPTER 33: TWO WEEKS GONE

**Chapter 33: Two Weeks Gone**

…

"Today is the tomorrow we worried about yesterday."

…

**A**nother week passed, the days seeming longer and longer to Lenna the more of then she had to bear without a word from her fiancé. Work and planning for the wedding did not completely fill the days, and the times when she had nothing to do but worry were the worst hours of them.

…


	34. CHAPTER 34: OCTOBER THIRD

**Chapter 34: October Third**

…

"I love you, love you, love you! If you were to cast me off now-but you will not-you would never be rid of me. No one should come between us. I would pursue you to the death."

-Charles Dickens, _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_

…

**S**till in her pajamas, Lenna moved the hot tea cup around in her hands as she sat quietly on Cal and Grace's guest bed. The steam from it rose in elegant swirls into the air in the early morning stillness.

She glanced briefly at the wedding dress she'd laid out on the bed as if her eyes could not rest on it for more than a few seconds at a time. She took a slow breath.

There had been no word from Regulus since he had said goodbye three weeks ago.

Another slow breath to tamp down the swooping panic in her belly.

She had been stubbornly insisting that the wedding plans continue as is even though she hadn't heard a word from him. He'd given her a promise that nothing would go wrong. That he would be there.

The bedroom door opened quietly and Grace stood looking at Lenna who did not meet her eyes.

"We can postpone it," she said in her gentlest voice.

Lenna took another breath and didn't respond. She was thinking so many different things at once that the effect was no thought.

"Lenna…?"

"Can we just…" she murmured, "can we just wait a little longer? Just a little? I don't think I can give up just yet."

"Of course. Do you still want to meet with Gregory at the park?"

"Yes. And if—you know—he's never… I can explain and…and apologize."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"It's rude to schedule something and then have to cancel."

Grace put an arm around her, but Lenna didn't cry. She took another deep breath.

Grace tried to get some breakfast in her but she didn't feel hungry. Calun seemed at a loss the entire morning. Instead of issuing bossy commands and opinions as usual, he was quiet and let Grace handle things in her gentle way. His wide, concerned eyes spoke of the helplessness he felt.

As the day warmed and the time when they were supposed to be meeting Lenna's parents and her father's friend Gregory at the park gazebo was at hand, Grace found Lenna in the guest bedroom sitting on her bed in her wedding dress. Seeming to recognize what she needed though it went against logic, Grace stood her up murmuring that she would wrinkle the dress if she kept sitting on it and magically did her hair and makeup for her. Grace got into her dress as well and, smiling a little for the first time in days, Lenna did the same for her.

Cal was in jeans when the girls came out looking beautiful and he stared at them.

"This is a rather formal apology," Lenna said and Cal smiled a little.

"My favorite kind," he chuckled. "You look stunning, both of you." He—lazily—transfigured his current clothes into a dress shirt and pants. He turned his shoes into black dress shoes and stood briefly in front of the hall mirror to tidy his hair.

"Shall we then?" Grace said, and led the party out of the house to Apparate to the park. It was about twenty minutes before eleven, but four chairs were set up in front of the plain white gazebo. Marisa, Walter, and Gregory were sitting chatting in the chairs but they stood, smiling, as Lenna, Cal, and Grace approached them.

"About time," Walter greeted. "I could sure use your help decorating the place, Grace."

Grace smiled weakly and Cal grimaced as they watched Lenna walk up to Gregory and begin to explain the wedding would have to be put off.

"And there's the man of the hour," Walter said with a smile, looking across the park. "You're all a little late, you know."

Lenna, Calun, and Grace spun around at his words and stared at the young man in black dress shirt and pants crossing the grass toward them. His eyes were hard gray stones of grit and purpose. There were no visible marks on him other than the old fading scar across his lower jaw, but he seemed to have forgotten his hair when he fixed his appearance because it was grimy and flecked with dirt and dust. Everyone was quiet as he came straight toward Lenna and clasped one of her hands in his tightly. He said nothing.

Tears were streaming unbidden down Lenna's cheeks as her eyes traced over every inch of his face. "Where—where did we meet when we were in school?" she asked, her voice sounding a little choked.

"Behind the clock face," he answered with no hesitation. Lenna nodded and turned to Gregory. "Nevermind about what I was saying."

Gregory nodded and went up the steps to the gazebo as Grace fixed Regulus' hair with a wand flick and then began to coat the structure in white and silvery flowers and garlands. She conjured a bouquet and handed it to Lenna.

"Wait—wait—_Regulus, where the hell have you been_?" Cal demanded, appearing to come out of his helpless stupor. Lenna turned around and said sternly, "After."

Calun's mouth mashed up grumpily, but he took his seat as Marisa, Walter, and Grace did. Lenna's eyes then did not leave Regulus' as he took up her other hand in his as well and they gazed at one another at Gregory preformed the ceremony. Grace's camera shutter snapped. Much of his words were lost on her, but when it came to her vows she listened carefully and repeated them with sincerity, prompting another wave of silent tears to slide down her cheeks. Regulus' vows were spoken steadily in his warm and serious voice, and for the first time in a long time Lenna watched as tears also leaked from Regulus' gray eyes.

When the wedding bands were called for, he dropped her hands to dig the velvet case out of his pant pocket and put hers on her finger and his on his. And when they were declared bonded for life, Gregory waved his wand above their heads and a shower of warm golden sparks fell around them and their entwined fingers.

The four seated in the chairs applauded and laughed, camera shutters snapped, and Lenna finally looked away from her new husband and saw that Grace's eyes were teary and that both Cal and Walter had the same tender and emotional expression on their similar faces.

Lenna thanked Gregory and then told Cal, Grace, and her mom and dad that the little reception would be at Cal and Grace's house and that she and Regulus would join them in a little while. Her family left them after a few minutes of congratulations and then she and Regulus were finally alone.

No words came as he held her hands tightly in his and the two sat down together on the gazebo steps. He touched her; cupped her face, touched her lips, and brushed her hair from her face. Tears slid down his cheeks again and the sight did so much to Lenna inside that she could not speak. They wordlessly touched one another; faces, shoulders, hands. Regulus brought his arms up around her and she felt a single sob burst from her. She wept for the panic she had experienced and for the joy and relief of seeing him again. She choked out his name again and again as he held her tightly to him.

When her tears had abated, she kissed him; slowly, deeply.

"What happened?" she finally voiced.

"I was captured."

"The Order?"

"Same side as the Order, but not connected to them. Love…if there had been any way to spare you what I know you went through in the last two weeks I would have given anything."

"You're here. You're safe. We're married."

Regulus smiled weakly. "In my heart, we have been for a while."

"Yes. I… Stay with me now for a while please."

Regulus closed his eyes tightly when he heard those words. "As long as I can," he whispered. "As long as I can, kitten."

…

"We should go somewhere."

"I don't want to," Lenna replied softly. "Nor do you, I would imagine." She finished lighting the last candle in her bedroom with her wand tip. The light from them, placed all around, cast a warm, flickering glow around the small room and cozy bed covered with a thick crimson comforter.

He sat heavily on the bed and then lay down on it in his dress clothes, closing his eyes briefly. He looked exhausted and Lenna felt tired as well. But content. She sat beside Regulus in her wedding dress and ran a hand through his raven hair. His eyes traced her features with adoration for a moment, and then he sat up and kissed her bare shoulder. His mouth moved its tender way up her neck and behind her ear and Lenna's eyes closed. She leaned into him, her blood humming warmly. They helped one another slowly out of their clothes; Regulus placed her dress carefully over a chair. He then picked his wife up into his arms and laid her on the bed. The two got under the comforter and caressed one another. The kissed, touched, squeezed. There was no urgency to anything—they had as long as they wanted. Lenna slowly grew wet and hot under his hand, and Regulus wrapped an arm around her to pull her body up against his. He moved into her and Lenna closed her eyes.

She lay her head on the pillow, gazing into the eyes of her husband, as he moved his hips slowly and gently and cupped her backside in his hands to move her body back and forth over his. She burned for him there, wanted him deeper, but she relaxed and reveled in the sensation of that want. There were no words as his steady, strong motions slowly built them both. Lenna couldn't tell how much time had passed, but she finally relaxed, boneless, after release whipped through her, and when Regulus found his own, his warm body slowly fully relaxed, with most of him still on top of her. She happily slid her arms tight around him and held him close. His breathing sank into a rhythm and Lenna thought he was asleep, but then he murmured in a husky voice, "I love you, Len. More than life, I love you."

She smiled and caressed his handsome jaw with a hand, her eyes soft. "I am yours, forever and always, Regulus."

His hand tightened to hold her briefly, he shuffled more fully off of her, and then relaxed as he fell soundly asleep, their legs still intertwined. Lenna tucked her head up close to his on the pillow and closed her eyes, more hope in her heart than there had been in far too long of a while.

…


	35. CHAPTER 35: COLD IS THE NIGHT

**Chapter 35: Cold Is The Night**

…

'Tis the night - the night  
>Of the grave's delight,<br>And the warlocks are at their play;  
>Ye think that without<br>The wild winds shout,  
>But no, it is they - it is they.<br>-Arthur Cleveland Coxe

…

**T**here was something about this night that made the waxing crescent moon and the shadows it casted a touch more sinister. It was a feeling in the air, a smell, a response in the blood to this old pagan eve of harvest and witchcraft.

Regulus tucked the heavier wool cloak he was wearing tighter around himself to ward off the chill as he stepped off the path and onto a narrower one and the moon became slashed through by the silhouettes of branches. The brittle brown leaves remaining on the trees rustled like breath. The air was suffused with the scent of those autumn leaves and of pine needles. A great horned owl sat hunkered on a thick, gnarled branch above Regulus' path and its great yellow eyes watched him unwaveringly as he passed beneath.

His scalp prickled as he heard an eerie tune float toward him from far to his left. It was hardly a surprise that he was not alone in his trek through these trees, but singing he had not expected.

"_Cruel be the wind as it quells my words_

_Incantations I so hope you've heard_

_Saint Lucifer hear me praying to thee_

_High be the price but then nothing is free…_

_My soul I'll gladly trade_

_Cold is the night in so many ways_

_Luna round, full and bright_

_Deep be the mud on the fresh dug graves__…_

_On yours I'll recite_

_An ancient spell I know so well…_

_On all hallows' eve…"_

The singer trailed off into humming as their path forward came closer to Regulus', and he peered through the trees and spied Bella walking in the same direction as he. She was dressed extravagantly in a full black and red velvet ball-shaped dress with a black lace bodice and her raven curls bouncing wild. She carried what looked like a large bag. She noticed him as well and threw him a wide grin before again striking up her ominous tune.

Regulus shrugged his shoulders to loosen them before he and Bella stepped out into the small clearing in the woods. On the other side of it three robed Death Eaters were in the process of siphoning dirt from a pile over a large body-sized hole in the leaf-strewn grass. Someone had placed a ball of blue wizard's fire hovering near the men working but beyond the reach of its light he moon's dim glow had bleached the scenery.

Beside them lay a second body waiting its turn to be concealed within the earth. Regulus' eyes traced briefly over the face but the aged man was a stranger to him. His body was twisted in an odd way though Regulus couldn't tell exactly where the oddness was. His body looked frail in the wizard light. As if he were a child again.

Regulus stood as a statue wood, his hands in his pockets and the muscles of his shoulders and back bunched tight. Two other robed Eaters were doing the same; Regulus didn't care to put in the mental effort of guessing at who they were beneath their masks. Like Bella, he had not bothered to mask himself. His face was already in the papers and posters—it seemed unnecessary. Another figure appeared from the wood meters away and joined them.

Bella traipsed lightly over to the men working and reached into her bag, humming again.

"I brought sweeties!" she trilled merrily, handing each of the men a kind of candy, which they had to stop working to receive. No one answered her, they only stared, bemused or condescending, at their allotted gift. Bella even knelt and picked out something for the corpse, placing a roll of something on his chest and patting him fondly before rising and going around to others.

"_Deep be the mud on the fresh dug graves_…Rosier! I have just the one for you!" She dug into her bag and pulled out a little baggie. "Look, two little pumpkin cookies! A man pumpkin and a lady pumpkin! And the lady pumpkin's broken in two—just like your wife was a year ago!"

Rosier's wand arm twitched but otherwise he did not move. Bella dangled the baggie in front of his face.

"Don't you want your cookies? They have frosting and everything." When again he didn't move, Bella opened a pocket on his robes and stuffed the baggie in. "Well, there you go. For later." She then pranced over to the next nearest person standing around. "Nott!" She grabbed something out and inspected it. "It's some sort of cluster. Enjoy." She handed it to him. Nott looked at it.

There was a pause.

"I'm allergic to peanuts," he said.

Bella blinked. "Lethally, I hope."

"Bellatrix…"

"_Fine_," she exclaimed, taking the cluster and shoving another thing at him. "Here's a mint thingy. Yaxley! Yaxley Yax Yack-head! Have a lolli!"

Meanwhile, the corpse was being lowered into the hole. Bella turned and put her hands on her hips. She crossed to the hole and picked up the candy that Mulciber had tossed off the body and onto the ground. "What, you don't want your candy?" she demanded of the dead man as they began covering his body with dirt. "That is mighty ungrateful!" She spat into the hole and then skipped back over—toward Regulus, her next recipient.

Meanwhile, Lord Voldemort materialized in the clearing behind those working on the second makeshift grave and he glanced at what was happening there, then his eyes rested curiously on Bella and Regulus.

"Cousin Reggie!" she exclaimed merrily. "Look look what I have for you." She whipped out a candy skeleton in wrapping. "Doesn't he look like you?"

Regulus laughed, taking it from her outstretched hand. "Same jaw," he agreed, nodding and rubbing his jaw with his other hand.

Bella giggled and bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Bella," Lord Voldemort drawled and Bellatrix whirled to face him, dropping to one knee.

"My _Lord_," she breathed passionately, as if to a lover.

The Dark Lord smirked. He asked of her, "And what have you for _me_?"

Bella immediately stood, grinning widely, and curled her wrist, a shape forming. Her hand pulled around to reveal a large apple in her palm. It looked caramelled and covered in peanut bits. She swung her arm back and lobbed it at her master.

Voldemort caught it easily with a swipe of his arm outward like the strike of a snake. He inspected it appraisingly. Then he took a big, crunching bite out of it and turned his attention to the grave fillers, chewing. Bella beamed delightedly and Regulus took the opportunity to compliment her, "Bella, you look stunning. More so than usual, that is."

There was genuine pleasure in his cousin's eyes at his words though she replied, "You just want another piece of candy, you handsome greedy beggar. You'll have to wait. We take turns here."

She walked away toward another cloaked Eater with her nose sticking up; Regulus smirking with amusement the entire time.

"Tell me, you two," Lord Voldemort enunciated calmly, and the clearing suddenly grew silent as a tomb at his tone. Bella even stopped mid-word to turn and watch. "Have you been watching Muggle crime shows?"

"No, my Lord," Mulciber said quietly.

The Dark Lord took another bite of his candy apple, chewed, swallowed.

"Are you two piously religious?"

"No, my Lord."

"Have you forgotten how to use a wand?"

"No, my Lord."

"Then _why…take the time to burry flesh and bone_?"

"I—I did not think my Lord." Mulciber's voice was small. For so large a man it was almost amusing.

"Do not make me remove these two myself, Mulciber."

"No, my Lord. Of course not, my Lord." The two men immediately set to the task of uncovering the bodies and then magically eradicating any physical evidence of their existence.

The Dark Lord took another bite of his apple.

A pointy-faced little man Apparated with a pop into the clearing beside the graves and yelped rather pathetically when he saw Voldemort. Recognizing him, Regulus made a twitch to draw his wand before he remembered Pettigrew was working in secret for them.

The Dark Lord strode over to Pettigrew, and at the sight, the tiny weak man trembled slightly but lifted his chin in an odd way as if to pretend at bravery. The Dark Lord reached him and grasped onto his shoulder harshly. Regulus imagined with a wince the discomfort of that hold—those bony fingers must feel like talons. Voldemort and Pettigrew spoke low, short words, and then Voldemort released him and nodded. Pettigrew quickly took leave.

The Dark Lord seemed to be waiting for something. He continued to eat the apple, saying nothing to anyone, and the rest of his servants in turn said nothing. Regulus noticed the Dark Lord had assembled a rather small group—with notable absences. It was only Regulus, Travers, Rosier, Mulciber, Bella, and three others Regulus had discerned from Bella and their mannerisms as Yaxley, Goyle, and Severus. Dolohov was missing, the Carrows…Barty, Karkaroff, Macnair, Crabbe—these were understandable exceptions if the Dark Lord wanted a small group. But where were the Lestrange brothers? Lucius? Avery? Regulus shifted uneasily. Something was going on.

Bella finished handing out her candy, gave Regulus another piece unexpectedly, and then all was quiet except for the work of Travers and Mulciber. Travers disintegrated both bodies completely, clothing and all, and then filled in the holes and magically coaxed grass over both spots again. He even flicked over a few nearby leaves to cover them as well. Then all was quiet.

After a few more minutes of waiting, something happened. Avery materialized in the center of the clearing and the Dark Lord immediately snapped forward to speak to him. Avery affirmed something and the Dark Lord nodded, looking pleased, and Avery Disapparated.

Voldemort opened his hands to his surrounding Eaters and explained, "The task I had gathered you for is no longer necessary; unforeseen circumstances forced us to act more quickly than anticipated, but Avery, Lucius, and Rodolphus have performed well and won us another victory, my friends.

"Therefore: go. There is no more need for our grouping here. I for one am pleased no more work is necessary tonight. I des_pise_ Halloween."

And with that, he dematerialized with an inky swirl of black smoke. Death Eaters followed suit not moments after, Apparating away swiftly. Bellatrix turned to Regulus and extended her hand to Apparate with him.

Instead of giving her his hand, Regulus took hers up and kissed it gentlemanly. "Your invitation is gracious, cousin, but I would wish to spend the evening with some other friends, if you can bear the deprivation."

Bella pursed her lips but did not look irritated. "Then have a good night. Make it productive. Destroy some Muggle children for me. Especially the ickle ones in witch costume."

He chuckled. "With pleasure." He Apparated away and into the deep shade of a pine in Cal's neighbor's front yard. He stepped out and had to readjust, staring, at the change in scene. The street was aglow with activity. Muggle children and their parents were on doorsteps, yards, and the street. Porches were lined with jack-o-lanterns, trees hung with fake web, plastic skeletons, and apples and doughnuts on strings. Children shrieked, laughed, chorused "_Trick or treat_!" and Muggle gizmos made spooky noises or played music. Flames flickered in candles and on top of tall lawn torches.

Regulus took a moment to steel himself against the radical shift in atmosphere. He reached into his inner pocket, pulled out the golden wedding band he had hidden there, and slipped it back onto his finger. Then, after another moment, he walked across the brief stretch of lawn and up Cal and Grace's driveway. A gaggle of thirteen or fourteen year olds stared at him as he passed them going the opposite direction. One was a bloody bride, one a vampire, and the rest merely dressed in black with silver studded wrist bands and eye makeup. They carried plastic grocery store bags instead of the brightly-colored containers the smaller children toted.

The drive was lined from halfway up with tall candles, as was the porch. Uncarved pumpkins, Indian corn, and lumpy squashes decorated the porch seat. On one of the cushions amid these sat a handsome black cat, flicking its long tail and watching him beadily. An orange plush spider sat beside the doormat surrounded by tall flickering candles. Plastic bats hung from the window frames and fake rats and little black spiders adored the sill. A life-sized fake skeleton was tacked up beside the door, and on the door itself was a large paper banner with the Muggle interpretation of what a witch was—wart, broom, moon and all—underneath which were the words 'Happy Halloween!'

Regulus took a short breath and rang the bell.

…


	36. CHAPTER 36: OR TREAT

**Chapter 36: Or Treat**

…

"Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little girl like you."

-Classics IV

…

**G**race was chuckling as she came back into the living room. Calun was putting another log on the fire in the small grate and Lenna was unwrapping a cupcake with black and orange sprinkles while she sat on the couch.

"What?" Lenna asked. Grace put the candle bowl on the side table and replied, "Teenagers. I asked the ones without costumes where their costumes were and they just stared at me."

"Have they gone far?" Cal asked, standing and brushing his hands off on his pants with a grin. "I'll jinx 'em for ya."

"Cal!" Gracie scolded, looking abashed at even the thought.

Lenna giggled, her cheeks puffing out with half-chewed cupcake. "I can_not_ take you two seriously looking like that."

Calun reached up to feel the fake bolt sticking out of both sides of his head with a grin, and Grace laughed. The two of them were dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Frankenstein's monster—the Hollywood version. Grace's pale blonde hair was died black and frizzed with a white stripe through it from the left of her forehead to her neck in the back. She had fake patchwork lines on her face, neck, and arms and was in a white hospital-esque gown. Calun had his black hair shaped into a stiff black block shape on his head, two ends of a bloody fake bolt attached to his temples magically and a patchy green and black suit on. He had dark makeup beneath his eyes and also had threading drawn on his exposed skin.

"Monster no care!" Cal exclaimed and moved toward Grace and pulled her into him, kissing her hard on her darkly-lipsticked lips. Grace broke away with a laugh. Another knock came at the door and Lenna got up this time, tossing her cupcake wrapper in the trash.

"I've got it since you two are otherwise occupied," she teased. She grabbed the candy bowl and stood behind the door. She hadn't heard a 'trick or treat'.

"What do you sayy?" she called teasingly to whoever was on the other side.

There was a pause and then a man's voice answered, "Er, trick or treat!"

Lenna gasped in delight and swung the door open wide. Her husband was standing there. He smiled broadly at her expression—and at the rest of her. She looked gorgeous. Her costume was Victorian—a heavy and full light-pink dress with pink frill along the low neckline and large, elegant pink bows down in a line from the center of her bodice to the center of her waist. Lace fanned at the end of her sleeves and the body of the dress bloomed outward and down, slightly darker lace decorating the bottom. Her hair was curled and cascaded over down one side. Toward the top she had pale pink roses and beads in her hair.

"Regulus!" she squealed and opened her arms for him. "I thought you'd be tied up tonight!"

Regulus lifted a finger, making her pause for a moment. "Question."

"Right." Lenna huffed slightly. "Hum. Er…where did we go for our honeymoon?"

Regulus wrinkled his nose. "Your bedroom. Merlin, that makes me feel like shmuck."

Lenna pulled him into the house, beaming again. "Oh, stop." The black cat Regulus had seen outside slid into the house too before Lenna shut the door. It twined around Lenna's legs before padding into the living room.

"New pet?" Regulus asked, following it with his eyes curiously.

Lenna giggled. "Old coffee maker…"

"Ah."

Lenna was towing him into the guest bedroom just as Cal and Grace came out to greet Regulus, and with a happy and sly wave of her fingers, Lenna shut the door in their faces gently. She turned toward Regulus, arms reaching toward him; his body met hers fluidly and he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. Regulus dropped his cloaks onto the floor. Lenna's getup was a little problematic, but did not impede their passion. Lenna clutched him to her and kissed and kissed him. His mouth, his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders. Regulus pressed her against the wall and showered his love upon her, his true self rejoicing in its vent and release.

After a few minutes more of private time, Lenna readjusted her dress, fixed her makeup with magic in the room mirror, and then they went out to greet Grace and Cal finally. Cal was in the open front doorway handing out candy, but Grace gave them a look, her delicate nose scrunched up.

"That was rather _rude_," she chided.

Lenna sniggered.

"Great costume, Grace," Regulus complimented as he hung his cloaks in the front closet. "And the decorations are amazing. You guys could throw a party here."

"Not tonight, but Len and I are already planning a Christmas party. It's going to be amaziiing!" She sang the last word excitedly. Regulus couldn't help but grin at her happiness.

"Hold it!" Cal exclaimed, walking into the room and setting the candy bowl on a chair. "This is unacceptable. Regulus isn't in a costume."

"It has to go with Lenna's," Grace added, nodding. They perused Regulus with their eyes as he stood looking resigned.

"I've got it," Grace murmured, stepping forward and waving her wand about, murmuring a couple charms but doing most of the work nonverbally. Regulus looked down and watched as his clothing shifted and pursed his lips at the slight discomfort of the old-fashioned style. He twitched as he felt her messing with his hair as well and then twitched slightly more violently as his upper lip itched fiercely quite suddenly—Grace must have been magically coaxing a mustache out of his face.

She stepped back finally, done, and Lenna was grinning.

"Goodness, Reg, you look…_dashing_!" she complimented, beaming with delight.

Regulus shook his head, smiling, and checked himself out in the hall mirror. He blinked, surprised. His black hair was wavy, but parted off to his left side. He wore a, well, _dashing_ black Victorian coat with brass buttons and a white and gold patterned vest beneath with a high collar that came up right under his chin. The white curving folds of a white undershirt beneath could be seen under his chin where the vest parted. He wore pants and shoes that matched the attire.

The black mustache, while quite unfamiliar on him, didn't look so terrible. He twitched it experimentally. He barely recognized himself, but rather liked it. He could have been a character in a novel.

"Grace, this was artfully done," he complimented sincerely. "You must have had the perfect vision in your head."

"Swanky, swanky," Cal agreed, smirking. "And I'm standing here with a bolt through my head. _Someone_ got the better deal."

"_I_ think you're the handsomer one," Grace said smilingly. "Even with the bolt."

"Oh, because I am," Cal chuckled, scooping an arm around his love. As they walked toward the kitchen, Cal was saying, "Don't let me eat every one of these frosted doughnuts because you know I'll try…"

Lenna straightened Regulus' jacket fondly. "I should like pictures of this before the end of the night."

Regulus nodded and kissed her forehead. They joined the other two in the kitchen and Reg stared around at all the amazing food.

"Go a bit crazy in here, girls?" he ribbed. Cal chuckled. The doorbell rang again and the voices of a large group of small children chorused, "_Trick or treat_!" Grace left to go answer it.

There were doughnuts, cider, apples, cakes, frosted cookies, a half-eaten pumpkin pie, and the remnants of what must have been their dinner: pork roast, salad, and bread rolls.

"Help yourself to anything and everything, of course," Lenna said. "Are you hungry? I can warm up the pork."

"Nah, I ate before the—before the, er, meeting. Those doughnuts, though…I may have to have a couple."

"I'll get you some cider."

"Careful of the dress."

"What are wands for?"

Regulus smiled and conceded her point. To Grace he said, "Lenna wants pictures."

Grace's face lit up. "_Oh_! Why didn't I think of that?" She scurried away, presumably to find a camera. Lenna meanwhile poured Regulus a glass of cider and he gulped it down. It tasted wonderful.

"Come over here!" Grace called from the other room. "I want them in front of the fire place."

Regulus and Lenna laughed when she walked in and saw Call tapping his wand to an expensive-looking camera. Not a second later the camera flew out of his hand of its own accord and started snapping pictures of him.

"Gah!" Cal exclaimed. "Okay—I think I got it—" He hurried over to where the other four were standing by the fire place and the camera excitedly shot pictures of them, refusing to wait for acknowledgement of when to take them.

"I think your spell was a tad overzealous, Cal," Lenna sniggered as it hovered by Regulus' head and snapped a photo of what could only have been his right ear. It zoomed upward to capture a shot of them all from above at a strange angle.

"Maybe," Cal admitted. Still, photos were taken of them all standing in front of the fireplace, candid and posing, and then the couples branched away from each other and the exuberant camera flitted back and forth between them. Lenna finally caught the thing in the air and mended Cal's original spell to a less obnoxious and film-wasting level, and the camera followed them into the kitchen, snapping shots now and then, but mostly ignored by them as they ate, laughed, and took turns answering the door for trick-or-treaters. They soon had to start answering the door in pairs because the camera caught on and then another person was needed to hold the camera so its enchantment wasn't so obvious.

Its last photo was of Lenna nodding off in Regulus' arms in an armchair by the fire as Regulus nibbled a candy bar. It reached the end of its film with a soft click and then drifted down onto the couch next to the curled up black cat, looking for all the world like it too was falling asleep.

…


	37. CHAPTER 37: LEGACY

**Chapter 37: Legacy**

…

"There's an awful lot of blood around that water is thicker than."

-Mignon Mclaughin

…

**K**reacher loved the holidays.

He had scrubbed and polished every inch of Grimmauld Place until it shone, and hung wreaths, holly, and mistletoe. A great vase of poinsettia sat in the middle of the long dining table and smaller arrangements of the flower decorated coffee tables. In all main rooms, a tall pine fastened with golden balls glittered in a corner or against a wall. Towels in the bathrooms were a matching green and gold.

Regulus chewed on a chocolate truffle from a batch the elf had made earlier as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen. His mother was at the table writing slowly on a roll of fine parchment.

The holidays made Regulus miss his brother. They had never really spent any time together at school, but during their younger years they would both come home for Christmas break together and forget their differences once in a while for a snowball fight or ordering Kreacher to make their favorite holiday toffee. They would sometimes both pick up a book in the evenings and read late into the night in front of the great fireplace, sharing ideas if one of them read something particularly interesting or thought of something to comment on.

Sirius would always inevitably get into a fight with one or both of their parents—or sometimes even Kreacher, as the two of them had an old animosity toward one another, especially right before he was disowned, when he had "broken Mistress' heart" by moving out—but in the times when his family wasn't screaming at one another, it had been nice to have him home.

Regulus remembered the first Christmas Sirius had been invited to stay at the Potters all break—it was the same year months later when he had left for good, abandoning his family and his parent's wishes for his future. After he was gone, Orion and Walburga had compensated for their loss with being extra pressuring and involved toward their younger son.

Regulus chewed slowly, glancing at his mother and then away from her. He brought a hand up to touch his inside pocket where his wedding band hid. Sirius didn't even know he was married.

No one did.

No one he had shared the majority of his life with knew. The thought made Regulus feel alien in his own home.

After a minute he was about to ask his mother where his father was, but then the question was answered for him as the deep tones of his father's raised voice could be heard from upstairs. Regulus couldn't discern his words but he also heard Kreacher's voice—unusually high-pitched as he attempted to defend himself from Orion's accusations.

Regulus flinched as he heard a crash and then Kreacher's pleas. His mother had not even blinked at the noise. Orion continued to storm and rage and abuse the elf. It was not until long after the confrontation had ceased and his father had sequestered himself in his study that Regulus climbed the stairs quietly. He too had been on the receiving end of his father's temper, but Orion would never physically abuse his family as he would the elf.

He turned the small tarnished handle and ducked into the un-needed storage space upstairs where he knew he would find Kreacher bandaging himself. He put a finger to his lips as he shut the tiny door and then couched low as he moved toward the elf. When he took away his finger, Kreacher immediately whispered passionately, "Kreacher is very well, Master Regulus. He's very well, Master Regulus does not need to—"

"Master Regulus wants to," he replied quietly and took the bandages from Kreacher and began to dress his scrapes and bloodied limbs himself. Kreacher's small eyes brimmed with tears and he turned his head as if to hide them. He murmured "Thank you, Master Regulus, thank you" every few moments.

Regulus felt a swell of something warm inside him akin to pride as he dressed some scrapes and healed the worst of the damage with his wand. In this regard he was not his parents' son. Kreacher was a product of the life he had led within these walls: he was prejudiced against Muggle borns and blood traitors, idealized dark magic and those who wielded its power, and was so unreservedly loyal to the Black family that he held no resentment after being treated in this malicious manner. Some might say that his hinges were a tad loose in that regard. But Regulus knew that however different or lowly the elf was, he felt the same pains. He too suffered under unkindness and treasured decency. Regulus was also fairly certain, with the ache of bitter truth that was hard to accept, that the elf was the only being in the house that truly cared for him as the person he was.

"Kreacher will do better," he vowed fervently, wiping his nose with the back of his bony hand.

"You're doing very well. For instance, your truffles are delicious."

"They are Master Regulus' favorite." Kreacher smiled.

Regulus chuckled. "Yes, they are. You shall make Master Regulus fat." As the elf's face fell, he added quickly, "Which is a good thing."

"Thank you, Master," Kreacher said a last time before Regulus left the storage space that was Kreacher's hideaway.

He went into his bedroom and shut the door. Absently he checked his watch for what might have been the twentieth time that evening. There was still some time before he was expected at the Christmas party. He looked over at his desk drawer and couldn't help scowling at it. In it were his notes on Horcruxes and the possible locations of the Dark Lord's. He had looked over them again and again, brainstorming, but again and again got nowhere. The drawer now seemed to be mocking his lack of success from across the room.

He forced himself to look away from it, and shoved some clothes and a toothbrush into a duffle bag which he then shrunk and slipped into his pocket. He was staying overnight tonight either at Cal and Grace's or at Lenna's apartment. He then lay back on his bed, lounging, and picked up the folded _Daily Prophet _that Kreacher had placed there earlier for him. He scanned the paper for Lenna's name but it didn't look like she had an article in it that day. His eyes found his face a few pages in where all the known Death Eaters were glaring up at the reader in warning. They had a family photo of him, not an Azkaban mug shot, and therefore he was one of the handsomer faces.

Another face caught his eye and he had to cast his memory back a few months to remember where he'd seen it. In a small square looking up from the solemn obituaries in the back was one of the men whose body Death Eaters had eradicated on Halloween. Regulus refused to let his eyes move beneath the photo. He didn't want to know where the man had worked, what his name was, or what family he had left behind.

The list of names on the list of missing was even longer this week…

Regulus crunched the paper in his hands and threw it off of the bed. He rubbed his jaw, eyes brooding. Lenna was still safe…the Dark Lord had no idea about her…but Regulus had a nagging bad feeling that he had been beginning to come down harder on him—as if he suspected something. Regulus still had never taken a life for the Dark Lord…and he wondered—even as well as he disguised and buried his true feelings—if Voldemort could sense his hatred for the servitude he had pledged himself to give. Secrets are nigh impossible to keep from Lord Voldemort, and here he was trying to secretly deal a blow that would facilitate his destruction. Not getting anywhere, of course…but still. Trying. Right under his nose.

Regulus knew he was in danger. He was always in danger. Both he and Len knew that. It didn't make it easier. He didn't know if he had years or weeks. And there was no way he could pass on his knowledge of the Dark Lord's secret without mortality endangering whoever it was he told. Lenna was in enough danger already. He was not about to put her in more, even if it meant letting this crucial information die with him.

'Die with him'—how morbid. He was about to go to a Christmas party. He needed to cheer up.

Regulus walked into his bathroom and shaved and preened himself so he would look nice. He left a stubble on his chin, though, as Len liked a little facial hair. He changed into clean clothes—a warm gray sweater and casual pants and shoes.

He looked at his watch again and was surprised to see it was passed the time he had planned on leaving. Lost in thought, he hadn't realized the passage of time. He closed his bedroom door behind him and walked swiftly down the dark hallway and down the stairs to the front coat closet. He pulled out his fur-lined winter cloak and shrugged it on as he went back into the kitchen. His mother looked up and surveyed him as he pulled a square dish with a cover out of a cupboard and began filling it with truffles.

Feeling her eyes on him, he muttered, "I won't be back tonight."

"Where are you going?"

"A friend's party."

"Whose?"

"I'm a grown adult and don't need to divulge every facet of my life to you," was his curt response. Walburga's lips mashed together in displeasure.

"Your father wished to speak to you."

Regulus grimaced. "Very well." Holding the dish of truffles in one arm, he went into his father's study. Orion was reading a letter in an armchair and looked up expressionlessly as his son entered the room.

"You wished to speak to me?"

"There are some new books in our concealed basement room."

"Yes. The Dark Lord asked Lucius to put them in a safe place and Lucius chose Grimmauld Place. I put the books there myself. Lucius doesn't know of the room."

Orion rubbed his jaw; it was the same motion Regulus did when he was thinking. He didn't like noticing similarities between him and his father. Handsome features and an ugly personality was a legacy of the Black family. Though age had lined, stooped, and grayed him, Orion had once been just as handsome as both his sons, in fact Sirius and Regulus looked very like him, though perhaps they had their mother's finer nose. It was as if Regulus had watched his parents deteriorate through the years, both in looks and disposition. His mother had always been haughty and short-tempered even when he and Sirius were boys, but Regulus remembered times when she had been softer. When she had been a mother to him. After all, he was her prized son, the default seeing as her eldest had been such a disappointment. They had lavished praise and attention upon him enough to inflate his head to ignorance. But now she was angry, aloof, detached… Orion had always been absent for much of Regulus' life, but he could still remember being educated by him in this study—a time alone with his father that he had much valued. He remembered Christmases and birthdays. Trips to Germany, Norway, Brazil… Now, excepting their physical similarities, he barely recognized the man in front of him.

"Those books, they're of a rare kind," Orion grunted. "Dark stuff, Regulus."

"I would expect nothing else, if the Dark Lord wants them guarded."

"You be careful of that."

"I'm not going to use them, if that's what you're getting at, father."

"You use them if you need to," he dismissed, "but I'm glad to hear they're not yours."

"No, they're not mine."

Orion eyed his cloak and the truffles. "You're headed out."

"Yes."

His father nodded and looked back at his letter which Regulus took as cue to leave. He walked out of the house and Apparated away on the doorstep.

…


	38. CHAPTER 38: NOEL

**Chapter 38: Noel**

…

"Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful."

-Norman Vincent Peale

…

**A**s he always did, Regulus had to take a moment before he walked up Cal and Grace's familiar driveway. The snow on the house and yard was old, but still white. Candy canes hung from the tree in the front garden and multicolored lights twinkled from their strings stretched across the roof edge and around the garage. Cars owned by guests who weren't witches or wizards filled the drive. A beautiful wreath decorated the front door and he could see—even from where he was standing—people talking and laughing in the glow from the front picture window.

It seemed so alien to him.

A scene he really shouldn't have a part of. He walked slowly up the side of the drive, still looking at the window. By luck he saw Lenna's beaming face as she introduced herself to someone, offering a platter of something, and it was that sight that quickened Regulus' walk and replaced his hesitancy with assuredness.

He opened the door like he owned the place and hung his cloak in the front hall closet. The living room was full of people he didn't know and it made him anxious. Any one of them could be a threat to his and Lenna's security if they recognized him and then saw him with her. Regulus slipped into the guest bedroom and shut the door. He stood in front of its mirror and waved his wand above his face, murmuring charms. He kept his hair black but made it shorter and changed his eye color from gray to dark brown. He made his eyebrows and nose slightly different, modeling the Muggle man he'd seen in the street just a few minutes ago. He was still decently handsome, but now wholly unrecognizable.

He went into the living room and hung by the back wall until he saw Lenna leave the room to go back through probably into the kitchen. It was strange not to attract her eyes. He left the living room, crossing the front hallway, and through the circularly-shaped house toward the kitchen the other way. He slipped into a branching back hallway by the laundry room; he only had to wait a couple moments before Lenna crossed in front of him and he took her arm and pulled her into the narrow hallway with him.

The speed of her reaction took him by surprise.

She threw his hands off her and had a wand pointing at his nose before he could even blink.

"Don't _grab_ me," she hissed, eyebrows knitted furiously. "Who are you?"

"Your husband," he replied quickly, laughing a little. He held up his hand to display his wedding band. "Nice reflexes, by the way."

Lenna's eyes only narrowed as she looked at the golden band. Her eyes searched Regulus' unfamiliar brown ones. "What was the name of the owl Regulus bought used to send letters to me?" she demanded.

"Crendlin. Kitten, it's me. I'm sorry I didn't catch your eye before I shifted my features, but I was anxious about being recognized. We took a broomstick flight over the lake, grounds and forest that day at the end of our seventh year, there's a chandelier in Hogwarts that's rainbow now because you changed it and couldn't figure out how to change it back, your birthmark looks like a hot air balloon—"

"Okay, I believe you," Len said, visibly relaxing. She pursed her lips. "I don't like your hair. You look like an army grunt."

Regulus chuckled and reached out to bring her close. He kissed her a couple times, gently, and her eyes relaxed fully. As she had said before, no one could duplicate his kiss. She took his hand and led him out into the party in the living room from the kitchen.

The house looked amazing. The girls had outdone themselves. On every surface, food. Everywhere, decorations. Nat King Cole's Christmas album on. A real Christmas tree with its star at the stop brushing the ceiling sat glowing in the corner of the living room, lending a crisp and very holiday-esque scent of pine to the room. Beneath it were piled gifts guests had brought.

Lenna introduced him to everyone a few at a time as her husband Reggie. Cal and Grace overheard and were then in on the deception. Cal took his mother and father off to the side to explain it to them quickly and quietly as well. Regulus slowly relaxed completely and settled down into a game of cards with some of Cal's friends while Lenna continued to mingle and be a hostess, fetching drinks, food, glasses of wine, and laughing with friends.

Regulus won a second game and then excused himself from the table, wanting to spend more time with his wife. She was by the fireplace talking to a lanky young man with curly red-and-brown hair in a white Muggle dress shirt and slacks.

"So I meet the girl for coffee, right," he was saying, "and we got on alright, but her _teeth_… 'Ello."

"Hey," Regulus greeted, nodding.

"Oh, Mathew, this is my husband Reggie. Reg, this is one of my coworkers, Mathew Mclusky."

Regulus shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, mate."

"You did that article on the Leaky Cauldron's loos, right?" Regulus asked. Matt grimaced.

"Yeah. Right, I did. But I see Becca, Len, so I'll finish my story later, eh?"

"Sure, Matt," she replied, and when he had walked across the room she gave Regulus a look. "Rude."

He smirked.

"You having fun?"

"'Course," he said. "It's a great party. Cal's mates are interesting."

Lenna chuckled. "Yep."

Regulus' gaze glanced over toward the fireplace mantle and he stepped closer to it, interested. On it were photos of Lenna and Calun at Christmastime over the years, and a very recent-looking photo of Cal and Grace holding one another in front of the house. As he watched, Cal ducked down in the photo, scooped up some snow, and rubbed it into Grace's hat, laughing. Another photo on the mantle caught his eye: a photograph that had been developed from Halloween of the four of them in front of the fireplace. He smiled at himself and Lenna in their costumes; his arm was around her and they were both beaming at the camera looking so happy and in love. There was a photo of him and Lenna dancing at their small wedding reception in the backyard as well. He watched as he spun her slowly under the glow of paper lanterns.

"These are great," he murmured. Hopefully no one would be looking at them closely enough to notice the man they'd met tonight wasn't the same face as in these photos.

Lenna smiled. "Grace had a bunch developed and framed for me. I'm in the process of finding places for them all in my apartment." She laughed. "But hanging them up has been nice. Makes the place feel so homey. And Grace is actually a really talented interior designer. You should come home for a little bit in the actual daylight and see what she's done to the place."

Regulus looked at her guiltily and took her hand gently in his. "I'm sorry I haven't been home for a day in a while, love."

"A week and a half, but who's counting," she replied.

He grimaced. "We've been busy night and day... But I know that's no excuse. I'm sorry." He kissed the top of her head.

"I've been thinking of getting a bigger apartment. I can definitely afford it with how well-placed my articles have become, and I was thinking having an extra room or two might be nice… For a study," she added, seeing Regulus' face pale slightly.

"Mm," he responded.

She laughed softly. "Well. I still have to think about it. I could use a bigger kitchen, too…"

"Whatever you want," he said. "Still the same complex?"

"Same street, but I've been looking at that complex with a park next door. I don't know. Just something I've been thinking about."

"Okay."

As they spoke, Grace had been moving food out of the way as people had begun to dance to the Weird Sister's version of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree. Cal dimmed the lights slightly and preformed a temporary widening charm on the interior of the room to provide more space. People still sat at the card table and on couches, but now there was a large open space in front of the Christmas tree where people were chatting animatedly or dancing with one another. Before Regulus could escape to the cookies and caramels table at the far side of the room, Lenna towed him out to dance.

At the end of the fourth song, a group of Lenna's girlfriends came up to talk to her and she again was called back into being the party social butterfly. She knew almost everyone here, and they all demanded her attentions and smiles. Regulus amiably let her go and returned to watch the poker game Cal was now playing. Regulus had bonded earlier with his friend Bradley and the two struck up conversation again as he stood watching the game.

Lenna sat on the couches with her friends, sipping at her glass of red wine and taking ribs for not inviting any of them to her wedding.

It was fairly late into the night by the time guests began to leave the party. There were hugs, and Lenna and Grace forced tins of leftover food into hands. Cal's friends ruffled Lenna's hair fondly and she was hugged by her coworkers and friends. People left slowly, walking out to Apparate from the edge of the dark yard or rolling their cars out of the driveway. Lenna had a piece of candy cane sticking out of her mouth as she hugged her two cousins and her dad's sister goodbye in the doorway and they piled into their minivan lit by the garage's Christmas lights and drove away.

Grace was lying across a living room couch, waving her wand tiredly at food platters and trash and glasses to clean up the place. Cal was fiddling with his camera which had been busy during the party taking photographs. Len dropped into an armchair onto Regulus' lap. He was helping Grace clean with his wand. Soon the place was good as new and Cal retracted his lengthening spell on the room and went to the kitchen to make Grace some tea. She looked exhausted.

Lenna cuddled in her husband's arms, tracing the planes of his chest with her fingertips. Regulus closed his eyes and smiled a little. From stealing hours behind the clock face to being here in this moment… He felt so much older than he had just two years ago, but this had not changed. He held her tighter.

"Can you look like yourself again please?" Lenna asked. "I like your own face so much better."

Regulus chuckled, having forgotten his features were altered. He dug out his wand and erased the effect of magic upon his appearance. Lenna's eyes softened happily and she kissed him.

They heard the click of a camera and broke apart to scowl at Calun and his ninja picture-taking skills. He laughed and teased, "You guys are gross."

The Christmas tree glowed warmly as Lenna grinned and laid her head on Regulus' shoulder. He laced his warm fingers through hers and held her hand gently as Sinatra crooned _Through the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow…_

…


	39. CHAPTER 39: HOG'S HEAD

**Chapter 39: Hog's Head**

…

"Always in motion is the future."

-Yoda, Star Wars episode V

…

**S**everus sniffled in the bitter chill as he closed the door of the small specialty potions shop on Hogsmeade's High Street and brought his patchy winter cloak up closer to his chin, his newly-purchased ingredients tucked in a paper bag in an inside pocket. The quiet wind ceased altogether for a short moment or so and his dark eyes snapped up as he recognized the voice of the cloaked man walking ahead of him. The man was wearing a dark blue winter cloak and a short, warm-looking wizard's cap on his head of long white hair.

"…Yes, my dear lady, I do. Cassandra was a celebrated Seer."

The woman walking beside him with frizzy dirty-blonde hair and a fuzzy gray winter cloak said something in reply Severus couldn't catch.

"Mm," Dumbledore replied rather noncommittally. "Yes, I read them."

They'd reached the entrance to the Hog's Head and Dumbledore opened the door for the woman and the two went inside. Severus hung back a moment and then followed. Who was this woman Dumbledore was meeting with? Why was he meeting with her? Hoping he could overhear some useful information and win favor with the Dark Lord, Severus spied on them, watching as they were led up to the second floor and when the man who had escorted them there came back down, Severus climbed the stairs and listened at the closed doors along the hall until he again heard the Headmaster's voice.

"…was explaining before, Sybill, Professor Jezebel had little taste for crystal gazing, preferring to work in the more organic arts, and I should like the post filled by someone willing to expand the curriculum and make the course a bit more challenging."

Severus' face fell. It was an interview for a teaching position, not Order business. He scowled but spitefully eavesdropped on the rest of their conversation, amused by the woman; she was overdramatic and had an obviously inflated view of her own seemingly-nonexistent talents. She reminded him of fortune-tellers at Muggle carnivals, full of ceremony and ambiguity. Dumbledore was obviously drawing the same conclusion and he politely began to pull the interview to a close.

The scraping sound of chair being pushed back and the two standing made Severus twitch to leave when there was a crashing tinkle of glass or china accompanied by the woman's rasping inhale.

"Syb—" Dumbledore began, but he was interrupted by a voice that must have been coming from the woman's throat, though it sounded ancient.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…_" she intoned and Severus' eyes widened as he pressed closer to the closed door. He heard steps on the staircase and knew he very well might get caught, but this was too important to miss—this was a prophesy—

"_Born to those who have thrice defied him…_"

"Oi!" the man called as he saw Severus and came toward him. "What d'you think you're doin' there, eh?"

"…_born as the seventh month dies…"_

Severus struggled but he didn't hear another word through the door as the barkeep seized him by the collar and turned him to face him. "There'll be no spyin' in my pub."

Angry, Severus tried for his wand but the barkeep prevented him with a hand on his arm.

"Eh! No ye—"

Severus' other hand swung up and collided hard with the man's ribs. He dropped with a wheeze, but Severus heard steps coming toward the door on the other side of it and knew he had mere moments before he was face-to-face with a wizard far more powerful than he. He fled.

When Dumbledore wrenched open the door he saw the barkeep groaning on the floor and Severus disappearing down the stairs. Behind him, Sybill was asking him what had happened.

"I dropped my cup," she said, bemused. "I'm sorry. I don't… Is there someone at the door?"

Severus was quaking with an emotion he could not identify.

He stood in the center of the dim, grungy main room left to him by his parents on Spinner's End, waiting for his summons to bring his master to him.

The violent _crack_ made him jump and he fell to both knees.

Lord Voldemort stared down at him. "Why have you the audacity to call me to your hovel tonight, Severus? Have you any idea what I was occupied in doing?"

"No my Lord," he breathed in an unsteady rush. "That's why the summons was necessary, I— Look into my memories, my Lord, see them! I have spied on Dumbledore, I heard—"

"Silence," Voldemort snarled. Severus felt his mind stab into his own and lowered his defenses, bringing to the surface of his thoughts what he had overheard and how he had overheard it. He felt none of the Dark Lord's own thoughts.

Voldemort dug, forcing the memories to catch up to the present. When he was finished, Severus opened his eyes and saw such fury and malice above him glowing in the Dark Lord's eyes that he felt certain he would pay for being the messenger of such news. Voldemort would tear him to pieces in his shock and fury.

"You have done very well, Severus," he said quietly, much to his servant's surprise.

"M-my Lord, I live to serve only you."

"Rise."

Severus rose shakily to his feet.

"We must search for this child…" the Dark Lord growled, beginning to pace. "Destroy its mother before it's born if we can, destroy the child after if we cannot… There are years before it could possibly be of any real threat to me…"

"Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort faced him. "I will send Avery and Rodolphus to discover any children this prophesy could refer to. The Longbottoms come to mind—the number of times from which they have escaped destruction at our hands is three, though I am not aware if the woman is with child. And let us not forget the other brigades outside of the Order—those defying me independently. The Rowwans have fought us twice and escaped…"

Snape only listened, nodding.

"Severus," his master commanded, "I will choose to whom to tell this information. There are those I do not trust with it."

"Of course, my Lord."

With distant eyes already calculating his next moves, the Dark Lord Apparated out of Severus' house.

It was hours later when Severus realized he too knew of a child expected as the seventh month dies. Born to those who had defied the Dark Lord and still worked to do so. The realization made him so nauseous he gave up his meager dinner to his toilet.

_Lily_…

…


	40. CHAPTER 40: UNSPEAKABLE

**Chapter 40: Unspeakable**

…

"Confusion now hath made his masterpiece."

-William Shakespeare, _Macbeth_

…

**L**evel Nine was creepy. And he was currently one of the creepiest things in it.

Regulus had spent the last few weeks learning all that was possible for an outsider to know about the Department of Mysteries. And now he was here to extract information from a worker in the Department's Hall of Prophesy, a Mr. Samuel Pollux, about the contents of a prophesy at the Dark Lord's request. Voldemort hadn't told him what the prophesy consisted of, how he knew of it, or why he needed to know the exact words of it. Or, rather, the ending. The ending of it was important for some reason.

He took a deep breath to settle himself. He would have to be cold tonight. The Dark Lord assigned this to him specifically. If he didn't do a thorough job, he would be at his master's mercy.

He waited, cloaked, hooded, leaning against the chilled dark wood of the wall for Mr. Pollux to come through the narrow black door at the end of the hall. He was magically camouflaged—not immediately apparent to the eye—and had a few impressive tricks up his sleeve he would need in order to have a nice little interview with Pollux without raising alarm. He had magically muffled the hallway just in case. Any undo noise—even at this time of night—could still cause nearby others to investigate.

Just as Regulus had slipped his wedding band into his breast pocket for safekeeping, the door opened. Pollux was in his early twenties, cloaked in an odd dark reddish purple, clean-shaven. The hair on his head was buzzed very short, and his eyes were a startlingly light shade of blue.

Regulus twitched his wand, sending a spell toward him to knock him unconscious. It bounced off some sort of invisible protection Pollux had, and at the sight of the yellow flash of light, Pollux drew his wand and sent out a stunning spell that only barely missed Regulus' arm. He rolled to his right and then growled a counter-spell he hoped would destroy Pollux's protection. He then had to shield himself as Pollux found his blurry form with his eyes for a moment and shot a curse at him.

It was a good thing Regulus had muffled the hall.

The skill of Pollux's retaliation startled Regulus; not in a long while had he dueled this talented of a wizard one-on-one. And though Regulus had the upper hand by being on the most part invisible, Pollux showed no fear and a high amount of control. Regulus almost felt guilty for not being sporting.

After Pollux had to abandon his shielding charm to throw a curse, Regulus shot a speedy nonverbal jinx though that hit him square in the stomach and he fell to the floor, unconscious. He grabbed the man under his arm and then set to work with some tricky magic: creating a room where there had never been one.

After a minute or so of effort, he hauled Pollux into the room he had just created—also sound-proofed—and when he shut the black wooden door behind him it melted away into the wall. Regulus pocketed Pollux's wand and then bound the man to the floor in the center of the room.

He didn't want to wake him. His thoughts traveled to Pollux's blue eyes and speculations of how many others in the city had the same pair in their head. He thought of mothers, wives, children. Aspirations, fears, passions, memories…

His fists clenched. It was sometimes so difficult to remind himself why he had to make these choices. But as always, it was the wellbeing of an innocent stranger to the wellbeing of the woman he loved, and without question the latter would always come out on top.

It wasn't noble. It wasn't pretty or well-packaged.

But it was his choice.

Regulus' heart snapped closed.

He kicked Pollux in the face to wake him.

The man shook his head to clear it, spat on the floor, and then looked up at his captor with furious eyes.

"Mr. Pollux," Regulus began coolly. "I believe you work in the new prophesies section of the Hall, the section occasionally updating itself when new prophesies are being made…is that correct?" His voice was cold and emotionless. A stranger's. He knew what he looked like to his prisoner…face darkened in shadow, voice cold…monstrously evil.

Pollux only glared at him, his jaw clenched.

"Ah, I see you have a misconception about our relationship, Pollux. You see, when I ask you a question, you will answer me. And you will be polite and honest. Or you'll come to regret it. Now that I've made that clear, let's try again. Do you or do you not work in the newly-made prophesy section of the Hall?"

"You shall not have what you seek," Pollux responded.

"Then you shall not have another day," said Regulus. He body-bound Pollux's body, then conjured a small, oblong stone and levitated it to touch Pollux's forehead above his right eyebrow. "I know you study the new prophesies. I know you know I work for the Dark Lord. The prophesies are labeled by the names of those they are about, therefore you _know_ the one I am interested in. It was made in January by a woman named Trelawney.

"All I want is some information you have in here, Pollux." The stone taped Pollux's forehead, indicating his mind. "About that prophesy. You will tell me other name. The other person to which it refers. And you will tell me how it ends."

Pollux barked out a rough laugh as if Regulus had said something he found funny. Regulus returned a smile and then twisted his wand to begin screwing the stone into Pollux's head.

His screaming was startlingly loud. It rolled in waves out of him, rising and falling in pitch and volume. Regulus stopped the stone's movement though he left it in the wound, and Pollux snarled, his voice high-pitched in agony, blood streaming down the right side of his face, "You'll destroy what you're after if you continue this!"

"Oh, yes, I know. Although we still have a centimeter or so to go before we'd have to worry about that. Plus you have so many other non-vital places to play with. I feel like the crook of the elbow might be a good place. Or the middle of your palm. There's also always your face. Damage to the face is very psychologically scarring. We could slowly take out one of your eyes too. You'd look dashing with an eye patch, Pollux."

Pollux glared murderously at him but those eyes held little fear. He was no coward. Regulus sighed internally. This would be much harder than he had hoped.

"Do you have any children, Pollux? A son? Daughter?"

The telling flash of his eyes spelled it out.

"A daughter. How old? Seven? Fourteen? Three? Now, both people in this room would like you to be able to go home to her. Lord knows little girls need their fathers. You have a remarkably easy option here, and I'm always disappointed when people opt out of it. You can tell me everything you can and then I can erase your memory and you could never be incriminated or have to carry around guilt. It would be like this never happened. And you'd be able to go home to your daughter and not have to sport an eye patch, even. Let's communicate, shall we? What do you think about option number one?"

Pollux's body shuddered as if his rage were trying to break out of the body-bind spell. Then he spat noisily on the floor, his spit colored by the blood running over his lips.

Regulus frowned. "In the future I would appreciate for you to use words, Pollux. But your meaning is clear enough. You are far too foolish to take option number one."

He had to choice but to crack him. And after months and months of watching his cousin Bellatrix do so to every manner of human being, he was confident in his abilities. He began to drive the stone slowly into Pollux's inner forearm, talking all the while. He spun torturous pictures with his words. Kidnapping Pollux's daughter and torturing her in front of him. Causing the stone to slowly gnaw off Pollux's foot. Forcing Pollux's entire family to watch helplessly as Regulus tortured him. Driving the stone into Pollux's daughter's temple.

He talked at length as the stone began on a new place on the man's body, and all in a cold, even, apathetic tone meant to exacerbate Pollux to weakness.

Pollux snarled, he screamed. He said little, however; his words were chosen with care.

"_The other name_. She'd beat herself bloody thrashing under the Cruciatus. _The ending of the prophesy_. Her eyes would go vacant, uncomprehending. _The other name_. She'd never smile again. There would be no more joy. _The ending of the prophesy_. I'd take the rest of them and do the same, one by one. _The other_—"

"_There is no other name_!" Pollux snarled. His eyes were a wild and dilated in pain, his face coated in congealed blood. "_The other hasn't been born yet_."

Regulus looked at him steadily for a very long time.

His blood oozed.

"THERE IS NO OTHER NAME!"

"The ending. I know you know it."

"You're a fool!"

Regulus chuckled. "We'll see." Now, he said nothing. He removed the stone. He sealed the outside of Pollux's wounds. He began with the Cruciatus.

He would never forget the bellowing tenor of Samuel Pollux's screams.

When he finally relented, it was just short of the man's mind beginning to slip. His time under Bella's tutelage had taught him how to toe the line.

He whispered, "Is one question worth your life?" When no response came he repeated, "Worth your life?"

Inches from his mind's unhingement, bleeding, mutilated, with muscles still twitching from the agony they had undergone, Pollux spat once more—bloodily—three inches away from Regulus' polished black boot.

He lifted an eyebrow. Infuriating… Regulus almost allowed himself to feel admiration for the man. But this was no time or room for that.

"Worth your daughter's happiness?"

This time, bone-deep weakness flickered in and dulled Pollux's electric blue eyes.

"_What's important to you, if not her happiness? Her life? What could top that? Tell me what I want to know and save her_!" Regulus bellowed at him.

Pollux's gaze found the floor and he wept. For what, Regulus wasn't allowing himself the empathy to understand.

Pollux wept and replied, sounding half-strangled, "You shall not have…what you seek."

Regulus reapplied the Cruciatus, doubt about his success licking at him for the first time. What if perhaps there were some…few, but some…too noble to be cracked?

He should have done this differently…Veritaserum or something of that nature …

It was sudden.

The rupture of a vital internal artery caused by the torture.

His eyes wide, rolling once, his throat gasping—twice.

Then a vacancy. As if there had never been life inside him at all.

Blue vacancy.

Chasm.

Regulus had forgotten how to breathe. How to take in air. What air was. Why he needed it.

Chasm.

Roaring in his ears. Nausea. He heaved up the contents of his stomach. He screamed out tears. No sound ripping out of him could possibly be enough.

He touched his hand, the lines of his neck. Told him he was sorry. He had taken him from his daughter, his daughter from him. He had extinguished him. Excuses almost began pouring out of him to the dead man—all his reasons why, all the things that had brought him here—but…they extinguished themselves. There was no excuse for this, and dead men had no ears.

Repentance filled all his veins and pooled behind his eye sockets and pressed against his temples. Shame and sorrow. Agony.

He let his head fall, his forehead pressing against the blessedly cool stone floor. His body heaved with rolling waves of wordlessness.

This was his, all this. The work of his mind, his wand.

Regulus wanted to plunge his hands inside himself and tear himself apart. Rip himself to pieces. Take from himself the life he took from Samuel Pollux.

It was only an hour before dawn when Regulus stood from where he had been curled on the floor. Pollux was stiff and white. Blood had pooled blue and cold in his lower arms.

His mind was clearer than it had been, but not healed. It never would be. It never should be. He needed time. But he also needed to take steps. Survival. Priorities. Choice.

He cleared any and all evidence from the scene, cleaned and tidied his own appearance, camouflaged himself, unmade the room he had created which left Pollux's body in the hall, and left the Ministry of Magic.

He found his master in the home of the Lestranges.

He knelt before him, his expression, eyes and posture a flawless mask. He presented the knowledge of his mind.

As always, he simply willed his mind not to disclose that which he could not allow the Dark Lord to see. It cleared, an instrument and a tool Regulus had always been able to wield. Voldemort gleaned nothing but that which Regulus wanted to give.

So well did he succeed at this, that the Dark Lord looked approving.

"You have won us nothing," he said rather harshly. "But from what it seems, there was nothing to learn. It is good he is dead. It is good you pushed it that far." That was it for praise. "Away," Voldemort commanded carelessly.

Regulus bowed his head and took his leave.

Of the county.

But he couldn't outrun himself.

He carried the enemy around inside him.

The gray ocean breathed with him as he sat on the rocky hill overlooking it. There was no one around. He didn't know quite where he was. But the ocean stretched out conceivably forever before him, and so there was enough room for his thoughts.

There was no peace to be made. If there was, he didn't know how to make it. The ocean breathed with him. Pollux's wand burned like a coal in his pocket. His heart had already burned…it was smoldering ash now, turning itself over once in a while, fresh with pain and blackness.

Regulus lifted his eyes to the sky. He had never felt the need before to call upon help, guidance…deliverance. He realized why humanity looked to their deities. The guilts, sorrows, regrets, uncertainties, atrocities, and horrors man is so inclined to feel far too much to bear on one's own.

He was glad of one thing: that he was feeling this way. That it was torturing him. Because it meant he was holding onto himself. Murder rips the soul, but repentance mends that damage. Not completely, but with nothing lost. Grieving for what he had done proved he was still fighting to be a good man. To be as good as he could be, rather. He could never be a good man. He never really had been.

What happened could never be excused, could never be justified. But somehow there was some peace in that.

Regulus stopped trying to destroy himself from the inside out and opened himself up completely. There was no one here with him. No one to prevent him from being as vulnerable as it was possible for him to be.

Regulus wept again. The stones and the waves and the sounds seemed to soak up the grief he radiated outwards from himself. His mind cooled. The back of it still throbbed. His heart still felt charred. He still felt dirty, stained, a little bit less than he had been.

But he no longer thought himself a monster. What he had done was monstrous. But the world was never black and white, and like his eyes, he had always been shades of gray. Regret ran deep into the marrow of his bones and kept him who he was. Never forgiven, but still himself. Still needed.

Miraculously, still loved.

He reached slowly into his inside breast pocket and pulled out his golden wedding band. He fingered it and the sight of it did not send him careening into a torturous pit of self-loathing as it would have before. He slipped it onto its place.

The ocean breathed with him.

He was finally emotionally where he could return to her and allow her affections to continue to heal him instead of shutting her out in shame and self-enforced suffering. He did not have to be strong…or even good.

He began to try and pull himself completely together for her…then stopped. She could be the strong one tonight. It was like lying to try and hide this from her.

He let himself into her apartment and found her writing an article on the sofa, what looked like a half-eaten leftover coffee cake on the coffee table beside her.

"I did something terrible," he said softly when she looked up and saw him.

Her arms were for him.

The next day a woman on the other side of the city would weep for the husband she'd lost, and for the fact that her daughter only just beginning to learn letters and the little one on the way were now fated to grow without their father.

…


	41. CHAPTER 41: HOPE

**Chapter 41: ****Hope**

…

"We define only out of despair, we must have a formula…to give a facade to the void."  
>-Emile M. Cioran<p>

…

**K**reacher's knock came on the door of his study and Regulus jerked upright from bending over his notes and Horcrux books.

"Master Regulus?"

"Just a minute, Kreacher." He opened a drawer and shoved his books and notes into it. "Alright, come in."

"Mr. Snape is here, sir," Kreacher said as he came in, bowing—a sure sign he'd been serving Regulus' mother as she demanded that particular sign of supplication. As he'd opened the door, noise had flooded the room—his mother's angry screams from a few rooms down the hall. She was feeling ill, and apparently considered it her job to try and make everyone else as miserable as she.

Regulus stood to grasp Severus' hand as he came in. He noticed Severus had a bruise on his temple and an odd slash on the leg of his pants.

"C-Can I get Mr. Snape anything?" Kreacher asked rather hurriedly. Severus glanced down at the elf.

"No, nothing."

"Very good, sir. I—I must return to my mistress now. She is very ill." He turned and darted from the room, shutting the door behind him which did a little to stifle the yelling again. Regulus preformed the silencing spell again and sighed.

"I apologize for all that, Severus. My mother is not happy unless she's being obnoxious in one way or another."

Sev cracked a smile. "Preaching to the choir."

Regulus doubled the hot cup of tea on his desk and offered it to Severus, which he took.

"So what brings you around?"

"Nothing, really. I was close by. With Dolohov, er, taking care of Miranda Lowell." His face twitched slightly when he spoke and Regulus leaned in slightly, sensing Severus was more shaken up than he wanted to appear.

"That name sounds familiar."

"Well, she was in our year. Ravenclaw," he replied in a low voice. "She's been in the Prophet's Opinions section. Writing in. Speaking out."

"Guess she had too many people listening," Regulus said quietly. His insides constricted with a pang of sadness. Miranda… Lenna had known her. She'd played Chaser for Ravenclaw. Instinct told him that Severus was shaken by what he'd had to do and was seeking a small comfort in Regulus' understanding and company. But Regulus had to be careful. He'd worked hard for the apathetic reputation he had and couldn't risk it by coddling anyone—even Severus. Even when he knew exactly how much it hurt—how much it could shake you. He kept himself firmly in cold Death Eater mode. "How did it go? You look bruised."

"She had a husband who wasn't too keen on our arrival. Rob Perego. You remember him."

"She married Perego? Really?" Regulus snorted. "Bet you did them a service, Severus. I can't imagine those two were very happy together." He laughed, and Severus fixed his dark eyes on him, no hint of humor on his features.

"Merlin, Sev, lighten up," Regulus said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. "You did your job and you did it well. Some people have to learn the hard way not to speak out against what we're accomplishing."

Severus gazed at Regulus for a long moment and finally asked in a low voice, "How many lives have _you_ taken in the name of our accomplishments, Regulus?"

A tight ball in Regulus' chest constricted painfully, threatening to jeopardize his careful façade. The words were knives to his fresh wounds. But it didn't win out, because the things at stake were too important. No pain flickered on his face has he wrinkled his nose and muttered, "You want the tally for the week or this month? The Dark Lord uses us all, but sometimes I feel like I'm implemented a little more than most… And I can't say I'm looking forward to rounds tonight. It's getting so cold in the evenings now, and if rain is added to the mix, we'll all be thoroughly miserable, even with protective repellant charms. Visibility will be bloody awful."

"Dolohov said Avery was planning on just sweeping the four or five usual areas, and then coming back early."

"Great. That means I'll have to entertain all night."

"What else do you have to do?" Severus asked, and his eyes darted over the papers and books out on the desk. "What're you working on?"

Regulus grinned. "It's private."

His grin erased Severus' suspicion. But Regulus watched as he scooted forward in his chair a little and leaned in toward Regulus. Here seemed to be the real reason for his visit. Regulus leaned in as well, curious. Severus' expression was intense.

His voice lowered, Severus said, "The Dark Lord didn't give me permission to tell you, but it's going to shape our stratagem for the months to come, and…you should know." He paused, then: "I spied on Dumbledore and overheard a prophesy."

Regulus' insides swooped again. This was the reason he had been sent to the Department of Mysteries.

"It foretold that the person with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born at the end of July, born to parents who have defied the Dark Lord three times."

Regulus sat back in his chair, taking in this new information. Of course Voldemort would immediately move to destroy this threat, killing everything in his path. Pollux had been telling the truth about the second name involved not being born yet.

Regulus' instinct was to try and protect this hope. Was there any way of doing so that wasn't absurdly life-threatening to him? Could he possibly be a spy, passing the Order information and keeping this child and their family safe?

But this child could never succeed in destroying the Dark Lord unless the way was cleared for them—unless someone destroyed the Horcrux they could have no way of knowing about. Regulus wished he knew how much time he had. A baby couldn't defeat Lord Voldemort, therefore did he have years? A decade—longer? Could the child remain alive that long? Could _he_? The sooner the Horcrux was destroyed the better, obviously…

"The Dark Lord must be mad with his thirst to destroy this child," Regulus muttered to Severus. "I should like to have seen his expression."

Severus allowed himself a quick smirk.

"The name that comes to my mind is the Longbottoms," said Regulus. "I know of three separate times they have in some way defied the Dark Lord."

Severus nodded. "Yes… But there are others." For some reason his face shadowed when he said this, his eyes seeming to shrink back into their sockets for a moment or two. Regulus wanted to ask who those others were, but restrained himself. He would find out one way or another. They would be targeted, found out, and killed. Unless by some miracle they managed to elude the Dark Lord.

Regulus nodded a bit distantly. He looked back at Severus. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"No, I should be getting back…"

"I should be glad of the company, and you'll just have to come back again for rounds."

"I would, but there's something I have to get done before rounds." He stood. "But thank you."

"You're welcome any time. And thank you for telling me, Sev. About the prophesy. I didn't know why I had been sent after an Unspeakable."

Severus paused in leaving and looked back at him. "I heard you killed him."

Regulus ignored the razors inside him and replied casually, "It was actually accidental. I was a bit too heavy with the torture. He didn't know anything—at least not that I could discover. But it seems I have a bit more to learn from Bella than I thought."

Severus gave him another odd look—as if the story was very convincing, but somehow Severus knew a little better. Then it was gone, and with a nod and a grimace, Severus left him alone. The door opening again undid the silencing spell and Regulus heard his mum's screaming had died down to an angry occasional shout. He re-sealed the sound barrier anyway.

He sat heavily on his chair again. Without the immediacy of Severus' presence forcing him to bury his pain and guilt, it surfaced stinging, cutting, burning him. _I was a bit too heavy on the torture… Seems I have a bit more to learn from Bella…_

It made him nauseous, this face he presented to the world. This sadistic, emotionless bastard.

He sighed and uncovered the Horcrux book he'd been pouring through as the knives in his gut slowly faded to be replaced by steely determination. He would find the Dark Lord's Horcrux and destroy it, so that if by some miracle this child survived long enough to have a chance to destroy him, they'd have a fighting chance at doing it for good.

…


	42. CHAPTER 42: ANYTHING

A/N: Credits to J.K. Rowling from whose book _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ I took much of the latter half of this chapter directly from.

…

**Chapter 42: ****Anything**

…

**R**egulus was still shivering slightly from the rounds, though he'd had hours in Grimmauld Place being a host to warm up. The only thing that had helped was some firewhiskey, but it still hadn't been quite enough to eradicate his chill.

He let himself in and as Lenna looked up he locked the door behind him. As he came over, she said, "Tell me something interesting about me."

"Hm. You talk to characters in movies as if they could hear you. You hate bad breath, love the smell of burning firewood, hold doors open for people, and you get stomachaches when you're very nervous."

She smiled as he dropped down beside her and kissed her. Then he noticed what she was working on.

"Lenna, that's beautiful."

She was making an album. She was working on pages with their wedding photos, but he saw many other photographs on the table. He smiled at one of them on the beach making a lopsided sand castle. As he watched, the one of the parapets fell slightly and they rushed to repair the damage, laughing.

"I've finished the beginning," she said, flipping to the front to show him. "And I left a few pages for photos of you when you were little and growing up. And maybe of your parents and Sirius too? Do you think you could get some?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I know where my mom keeps them all. Shouldn't be a problem to snag a few—except for of Sirius. When he was disowned, she destroyed every remembrance of him."

Lenna frowned. "Oh well."

"I could ask Kreacher—he'd know if there were any pictures of him still anywhere."

"Thanks." She showed him the beautiful pages she had already put together of her old photos and then the photos of her and Regulus' time together. He pointed to the lovely scrapbook style backgrounds, paper frames, and things decorating the pages. "Magic?"

She shrugged. "Mostly, but I have to have the materials and ideas in my head to do it. If I just conjured things, they'd disappear after a while."

"Yes, I know."

She put the book aside and snuggled into him. "How are you? Are you hungry? I have dinner leftovers in the fridge."

"I'm fed and fine," he replied. "Just want to be with you. For days."

She beamed. "For days? Really?"

"Yep. You wanna go somewhere?"

"No. I want to stay here with you and do nothing. Maybe watch some movies. 'Cept I have to be at work tomorrow morning, you know."

"I know. I'll wait for you until you get back."

She looked delighted. And threw her arms around him. "Yay!"

They fell over, Regulus getting pushed onto his back and his legs tangled under hers. He had enough time to laugh once before her lips were on his. They made out steadily on the couch for a while and then Lenna broke away to talk to him. She told him of the article she was working on, of things at the office, of Grace writing home to tell her family she met someone, of her and Cal's plans to take him to meet the family in the spring, of Lenna's desire to get a cat, of her new loud neighbors with three-in-the-morning habits, of the disappearances and recent murders the _Prophet_ was covering up, of the girl's day she had with Stephanie at the mall, and seeing Sirius with a girl in a bookstore in Diagon Alley and striking up a conversation with him—much to the annoyance of the woman he was with.

"It was so difficult to talk to him. I mean, he remembered me fine and was really sweet and friendly, but the entire time I was thinking 'I'm married to you brother' and unable to say it… It makes me crazy sometimes."

"I know."

"Of course you do, here I am whining about it being difficult for _me_ when absolutely no one in _your_ family knows and I have Cal and Grace and Mum and Dad. I'm sorry. Don't you think it's at least safe to tell Sirius?"

Regulus shook his head before she'd even ended the sentence. "No. Your mum and dad and Grace and Cal are in no danger of being tortured for information. They're nobodies to the Eaters and Dark Lord. Sirius, on the other hand, has a high chance of getting caught and forced to betray his secrets."

"I'd die before betraying and I trust him to do so as well."

"What if he's tortured into madness and doesn't know what he's saying?" Regulus replied quietly. "What about Veritaserum? There's no guarantee he'll even be allowed the choice to be noble. Death Eaters do not play by the rules, my love."

Lenna looked unhappy. "One day Sirius will know. He has to. It's unfair."

"And he will. When the Dark Lord is vanquished. Which might be sooner than we think."

"What?!"

He told her of the prophesy Severus had overheard, and her eyes were quite alight before suddenly they flickered away and her expression fell into worry, her eyebrows creased together, her mouth falling open just slightly.

"What is it? Len? What?"

"Reg…you also told me Severus told you Lily Potter was expecting. You told me in October. That makes it nine months in July." Her lips puckered. She looked upset. "Regulus, he'll be after James and Lily. And their little baby. Regulus…"

"Hush," he soothed, drawing her close. "The prophesy spoke of hope, kitten, not death. It said 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches'. This could be what we've been longing for. The end of my servitude, my fake life. Everything we want could be in the cards soon to be dealt."

"And the Potters have Dumbledore's protection."

Regulus nodded, but his own expression drew into a brood as soon as Lenna looked away. The Potters…he hadn't remembered them. Had they defied his master on three occasions? He could think of a couple occurrences… Yes, the Potters were probably on the Dark Lord's list. Probably on the _top_. Merlin, he hadn't even remembered…

His thoughts shot to Severus. He grimaced. Severus hated James but was in love with Lily…

What would he do when he realized the information he had provided would cause Lord Voldemort to target the woman he loved?

…

_Two months later_.

.

**S**everus was shaking uncontrollably with a terrible mixture of fear and desperation. If he had had any idea of the effects of his actions, he never would have told, never would have followed Dumbledore that day…

_Lily…_

It was because of him she was now in more danger than almost anyone in the world. The Dark Lord had chosen the Potters, had chosen to target them specifically. Because of _him_… Her safety, her happiness meant more to him than anything else in this world, and now…

He shook like a leaf, whipping his body around on top of the hill in the cold, waiting, fearing… He could be killed tonight, he knew he could be, but there was nothing else to be done… He had to do something…

There was no snow on the ground here, but it was still frigid and the howling wind had turned the bare trees to bone.

His desperation to protect her trumped his senses of self-preservation. It trumped everything. His sworn servitude… His future, his own life…

A blinding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air and his wand was ripped from his hand—he fell to his knees as it flew through the air.

"Don't kill me!" he cried, his arms up and protecting his head instinctually.

"That was not my intention."

Albus Dumbledore stood before him, his robes whipping around him, his face illuminated from below in the light cast by his wand. "Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"

"No—no message—I'm here on my own account!" He wrung his hands, his black hair flying around him. He felt almost mad. He wished he could will Dumbledore to understand. Understand how his world shifted the moment a target had been placed on Lily's head, how he would give up everything, trade anything, sell his soul, give his life just to ensure her safety. Just to keep her in the world, breathing, laughing… How his existence hinged upon her. "I—I come with a warning—no, a request—please—"

Dumbledore flicked his wand. Though branches still flew through the night air around them, silence fell on the spot where he and Severus faced each other.

"What request could a Death Eater make of me?"

"The—the prophesy…the prediction…Trelawney…"

"Ah yes. How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"

"Everything—everything I heard! That is why—it is for that reason—he thinks it means Lily Evans!"

"The prophesy did not refer to a woman. It spoke of a boy born at the end of July—"

"You know what I mean!" Snape cried, sounding almost choked. "He thinks it means her son, he is going to hunt her down—kill them all—"

"If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?"

"I have—I have asked him—"

"You disgust me," Dumbledore responded, contempt making the words into blows. Severus shrunk a little from it. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

Severus looked up at him for a moment and then croaked, "Hide them all, then. Keep her—them—safe. Please."

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

"In—in return?" He stared at Dumbledore, his old Headmaster, for a long moment. Then he replied, "Anything."

Everything and anything he had. For her.

_Lily_.

…


	43. CHAPTER 43: A HOUSE ELF'S MAGIC

**Chapter 43: ****A House Elf's Magic**

…

"what do we here

In this land of unbelief and fear?"

-William Blake, _The Land of Dreams_

…

"**H**e's after the Potters and their new baby, but he just can't get at them. They're protected by the Fidelius. It's probable that either Sirius or Lupin are the Secret Keepers—maybe even Dumbledore himself. If I were them, that's who I'd trust.

"They're safe, Len. The Fidelius is the strongest protection out there. I guarantee you it'll be years before the Dark Lord could figure out a way—if he ever can. And by then they'll have even more or different protection. They'll be okay."

"How's Severus?"

Regulus had told her about what he knew of Severus' feelings for Lily.

He grimaced as he stirred the Alfredo sauce on the stove. "I'm not sure. He seems fine. Maybe he's confident in their ability to remain safe. Maybe he's asked that the Dark Lord not kill her in repayment for his discovery of the prophesy. Maybe he really is petrified, but hiding it well. I don't know."

Lenna took the pot off the stove and drained the pasta before saying, "He can't expect You Know Who to leave Lily alive if he finds them. The Potters help fight against him. He'd take the opportunity to kill the entire family."

Regulus shrugged. "Not necessarily. Severus paid him a great service, and the Dark Lord is not beyond granting boons. Not listening to his followers incites anger and dissention, even he knows that. If it was what Severus asked for, he very well might spare Lily. Probably only Lily. I think it's a possibility."

"But if he asks You Know Who to spare her, that reveals how he feels. And he wouldn't want that."

"Perhaps the Dark Lord already knows. Perhaps Severus loves her too much to care." Regulus shrugged again. "But probably he just knows they're too well protected to give him too many sleepless nights."

"I feel so sorry for him," Lenna said softly, ceasing her stirring to turn to look at him with large, pity-filled eyes. "To have to lived separated from the person he loves. To know her life is with another." Regulus walked over to her and took her gently in his arms. He words spoke of separation and could potentially apply to himself and Lenna as well.

"Personally I think he's a masochist," he said, smiling wanly. "Anyone who's seen James and Lily together know they were meant to be. Time for the parmesan." Regulus took the pasta off the heat, and as he did so a soft mewing came from his feet. He looked down to see Lenna's tiny new kitten gazing up at him.

"You'll get stepped on in here, little one," he said, scooping the tiny gray, white, and black ball up. He plopped her on the counter out of the way.

"Hi Dinah," Lenna cooed, enveloping the kitten in caresses and rubbing her nose in close. "Hey kitty kitty baby."

"Why'd you name her that again, Len?" Regulus asked, watching her love on the kitten with amusement in the corner of his mouth. He eased some grated parm into the pot.

"It's Alice in Wonderland's cat's name. Muggle thing," she explained. She scratched the kitten behind her tiny left ear on the back of which was a small, odd black marking in the short, soft fur; a connecting of a waxing, full, and waning moon.

"And that mark it's got. I don't know about that. Wasn't it Morgan le Fey's mark?"

"She bore it, but the sign of the Triple Goodness existed before le Fey. It's not an evil mark, but a natural one. Pagan. Nature's magic, you know? It's what caught my eye among all the other kittens in the crate."

Regulus looked unconvinced. "You said the Menagerie got the cats from someplace east. Sounds a bit dodgy."

Lenna pursed her lips. "She's a perfectly fine, kitten, thank you very much. Smart too. The Menagerie check all the pets they sell for issues, diseases, and enchantments, you know that. She's even expected to live until at least twenty-five. What's with the suspicion?"

Regulus grinned and ruffled the kitten's fur. "It's in my nature." Dinah mewed at him a tad reproachfully and Lenna straightened her fur again gently, giggling. Mid-giggle Regulus kissed her. She laughed under her breath as he lifted her to sit on the counter while they kissed, Dinah having to crawl over the fruit basket to get out of the way.

"Dinner will get cold, my love."

"Let it."

"But it's my favorite."

"Oh yeah? I thought I was your favorite."

Lenna giggled. "After dinner, I promise."

"Hm." Regulus kissed behind her ear a last time for good measure and then let her go. They ate dinner at the table in her apartment as Dinah lapped daintily from her bowl of kitten mush. Afterwards they played cards on the coffee table by sitting on the floor on either side of it, a plate of brownies next to them. Dinah spent some time watching the game quietly, then amused herself by rolling around the jingly toy Lenna had bought her, and then made it her mission to disorganize their discard pile.

A sudden _crack_ in the middle of the living room made Dinah jump with shock and her hair stand up. She made a tiny spitting noise. Regulus and Lenna both scrambled to their feet, wands whipping out of their pockets to point toward the sound.

In the middle of the living room stood a confused and rather ugly house elf with batty ears and wrinkles.

"Kreacher," Regulus said. His face had gone very white.

"Kreacher was ordered to find Master Regulus," the elf explained, looking around. "Where is—"

"Kreacher you are ordered to remain here until told otherwise," Regulus breathed quickly. His nostrils were flared and his eyes wide—Lenna knew he was doing some quick thinking.

"Ancient elf magic," he muttered to Lenna. "Apparently it can get through our protections. Direct commands are a house elf's highest law…" He put a fist to his forehead. Kreacher looked like he wanted to say more, but was keeping his mouth shut.

"This is your house elf?" whispered Lenna to Regulus. He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Merlin, what to do," he muttered, half to himself. "This could be bad. Very bad…"

"Mistress wants Master Regulus back home for—"

"Kreacher," Regulus growled, silencing him. "Kreacher," he said again in a softer voice, "come here." He took the elf gently by the shoulder and sat on a couch with him. Kreacher cast furtive, questioning glances at Lenna and the small kitten with its sharp eyes fixed on him.

"Kreacher," said Regulus, "do you care for me and my wellbeing?"

Kreacher's large eyes filled with sudden emotion. "Kreacher adores Master Regulus."

"Well, I would be in agony—I would be destroyed—if any harm came to this girl here in this room. Do you see her?"

Kreacher nodded, gazing at Lenna with new eyes. She was biting her lip.

"So I need you to help me keep her friendship with me an absolute secret. Because if anyone found out, she would get hurt. And then I would be hurt. That can't happen, Kreacher. You have to help me protect her."

Kreacher nodded again.

"I have to ask something of you, Kreacher, and it's a big thing. I have to ask you to keep her existence a secret from everyone. Anyone who asks. From Mother and Father too. You'll have to lie. Even to Mother and Father. I know that's difficult. But if you swear to me that you will, you'll be able to. It all comes down to who you serve above anyone else."

Kreacher's eyes were shining again. Regulus was quiet.

"I serve you, Master Regulus," Kreacher said finally in a sincere voice. "Master Regulus has always been kind."

"Then my orders are to help me protect this girl by keeping her location and her connection to me an absolute secret always, no matter what."

"I will," Kreacher swore. He was gazing at Regulus as if he were a god.

Regulus nodded curtly. He walked over to Lenna and took her hand. "I must see what my mother wants." He kissed her swiftly and whispered, "I love you."

"We'll tell Mother you found me in the Leaky Cauldron, Kreacher."

The elf nodded.

"Let's go."

The two Apparated out with a _crack_ and a _pop_. When Regulus was no longer in the room, Lenna felt less safe. She double checked on her protective enchantments. She cuddled Dinah to her chest and noticed how fast her heart was beating.

If a house elf's magic could breach the magical protections around her home…who else could?

…

She jumped when she woke, feeling rather than being able to see someone in her bed. She wrenched her wand out from under the bedclothes and was halfway through a nasty curse when her wrist was grasped and Regulus voice cried "Lenna!"

She choked on the curse and then his arms were around her.

"Lenna, it's alright, it's alright, shhh, it's only me, baby."

"Don't frighten me like that!" she exclaimed, scared and angry tears springing from her eyes. "Now that your stupid house elf knows where I am, I'm—I'm—I've been—"

"You're safe, I swear it," he growled, pulling her into his lap and as close to him as their bodies allowed. "You think I would leave you alone for a minute if I didn't think so? Kreacher would die before giving you up now, love. I know him and I know that for certain. Everything is alright."

She locked her arm fiercely around his neck. He smelled like his house. Lenna had never been there, but whenever he came back from there he always smelled like old leather and cigar smoke. His hair smelled good. Like his shampoo. It calmed her down.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just had a hard time getting to sleep and…"

"I'm sorry," he murmured, laying them both down gently onto the bed, her encased in his arms. "Everything is alright. I can stay the night with you now. C'mere, kitten."

She nuzzled into him. "I love you."

"I love you too, Len. More than life." 

…


	44. CHAPTER 44: THE CAVE BY THE SEA

**Chapter 44: ****The Cave By The Sea**

…

On a windswept hill

by a billowing sea,

my destiny sits

and waits for me

-Robert Brault

…

"_**I **__demand better, Rodolphus_," the Dark Lord snarled. Blood red glinted for a moment in his very dark eyes.

It had been a long night. The Dark Lord was in an uncommonly horrible temper. And that was saying something. Regulus sat still as stone in his chair along Lucius Malfoy's long dark wood dining table. The room was dark, lit only by the electric blue fire roaring in the room's enormous grate and by the tall black candles on the table. Beside him, Barty Crouch trembled slightly. He'd been on the receiving end of Voldemort's wrath earlier in the evening.

"We're no closer than we were when we started. _It is unacceptable_."

Rodolphus and Avery stammered apologies, excuses, and pleas for more time and for forgiveness. Voldemort seemed to hear none of it. He was silent for a long while. His gaze traced down the lines of his servants along the table one at a time. Some lowered their eyes. Some murmured oaths of fealty and service.

Regulus said nothing but met the cold, red eyes when they fell upon him.

Voldemort blinked slowly and then stated, "I require a house elf."

There was silence. No one dared to ask him why, of course, but no one seemed to have any sort of reply.

He didn't take his eyes from Regulus.

Regulus sighed internally. "My family has a house elf, my lord," he said in a low voice. "He would be happy to serve you."

"Go and fetch him."

Regulus could have just called him to them, but he did as he was told—it was an opportunity to get away from the table of terror, at any rate. He stood and Apparated away.

He found Kreacher down in the kitchen.

"Master Regulus!" Kreacher said, hopping down from a stool and bowing swiftly.

"The Dark Lord requires an elf, Kreacher. I have volunteered you. It will be a great honor for both of us."

Kreacher bowed swiftly again. "Most certainly, Master Regulus."

"You are to do everything the Dark Lord orders of you." Regulus told him. "And then you are to return home."

"Yes, Master."

"Come with me." Regulus reached down to grasp Kreacher's bony wrist and then took them both back to Malfoy Manor. When the young elf Dobby led them back into the cavernous dining room, the only one still sitting at the table was Lord Voldemort.

The hairs on the back of Regulus' neck prickled. He hated being along with the Dark Lord. Why had he sent away everyone else?

"Command it to do my bidding," the Dark Lord intoned.

"I already have, my lord."

"Then leave us."

Regulus glanced once more down at Kreacher and then did as he was told. He did not like leaving him in Voldemort's hands. It was like leaving a child with him.

_What could he possibly need Kreacher for?_

It was already late and it grew later as Regulus waited in his bedroom for Kreacher's return. He didn't know why he felt such a sense of foreboding. The Dark Lord might keep him for days. There was no point to this waiting.

Still, he sat, tense, worried.

Then, quite swiftly, he realized: Kreacher could do nothing the Dark Lord couldn't do himself.

Except die.

He stood and called out, without thinking of the consequences. "Kreacher, come home!"

There was a startling _crack_ and the elf materialized in his bedroom, gasping for air on all fours, shaking uncontrollably, eyes wild, with vivid red hand marks covering his drenched body. He coughed water from his mouth.

Regulus stared at him, mouth hanging open as the elf crawled to him and wrapped himself around his lower leg.

"M-M-Master Regulus has s-s-saved K-Kreacher," he breathed. "M-m-m…"

"Did I take you from the Dark Lord?" he asked, now fearing his command had whisked the elf away in the middle of whatever task Voldemort wanted him to perform.

"He—he l-left, he l-l-left Kreacher…"

Regulus relaxed slightly. At least he wasn't in danger at present. He burned with questions, but could see plainly the elf needed to recover. He performed a few spells, healing the flesh bruised beneath the hand marks, drying Kreacher, and preformed a very light Cheering Charm to calm his hysterics and lessen his trembling. He also sound-proofed the room so his parents wouldn't by chance hear any of this.

When finally Kreacher was in a state to talk, Regulus sat him down on his bed and questioned him. When his responses unduly distressed him, Regulus would calm him again with magic. In this way, in the very early hours of the dark morning, he learned of his and the Dark Lord's trip to a cave beside the sea, beyond which was a cavern and a great black lake. A boat that carried both across it…a basin full of potion on the island in the center…the Dark Lord's laughter as he forced Kreacher to drink it all while his insides burned and he saw terrible things and he cried out for Mistress or Master to save him…

"He dropped a golden locket into the—the empty basin and it filled with more potion…" Kreacher groaned, and Regulus went very still. A locket. _The locket_. His insides went funny. They squirmed and burned and adrenaline shot through him. This was it. The Horcrux he had spent so many months searching for. The directions to it had been dropped right into his lap.

"Then the Dark Lord sailed away…he left Kreacher on the island…and K-K-Kreacher was dying of th-thirst—"

Regulus preformed a calming charm that helped the elf to speak more clearly.

"Kreacher crawled to the island's edge and drank from the black lake…and hands…dead hands…they came up from the water and dragged Kreacher down, down into the water…" He shook. "Kreacher was going to die. But then Master Regulus called him home. And Kreacher came."

Kreacher rocked himself silently as Regulus rubbed his jaw, his nostrils white, his eyes flicking about in intense thought. Voldemort had intended Kreacher to die there, and for his Horcrux's hiding place to die with him. He had overlooked the ancient magic of the house elves—that the commands of their masters are their highest law… Or was it a trap? Did the Dark Lord know of Regulus' secret efforts? No, it was too… How could Voldemort have known Regulus would happen to call Kreacher back when he exactly had? Kreacher's murder was simply collateral damage to the Dark Lord…a disposable life… a test of his Horcrux's defenses…

It seemed like the perfect brushstroke of fate, that now, with the birth of the Dark Lord's defeater drawing close that everything Regulus needed to destroy Voldemort's lock on life had been given to him.

He didn't sleep that night.

He told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And he began to make plans. He would find a replacement locket…he would go to that basin in the black lake…he would have to drink the potion…but then since Kreacher could leave, he would order him to get them both out…perhaps he would bring water along if drinking from the lake was what prompts the Inferi…

Then he would destroy the Horcrux. Would Lord Voldemort be able to feel that when it happens? Will he come after him? How long could he hide Kreacher's continued existence?

His head was pounding.

And how much of this was he going to tell Lenna?

He head pounded harder.

…

When Lenna woke up that morning for work she found Regulus asleep beside her, Dinah curled on the pillow against his head. He was snoring slightly, like he does only when he's very tired, so she let him sleep as she got up, showered, ate some toast with jam, and then left. When she came home he was still asleep but she made dinner for two. At dinnertime she went in and touched his face gently to wake him up.

He blinked awake quite suddenly and then his eyes softened.

"Hey," he garbled.

"Hey," she replied softly. "You doin' okay?"

He nodded and she snuggled down in beside him. He stroked her hair gently. She kissed his neck.

"I can tell you're not," said Len gently. "You're tense."

Regulus sighed slowly. "Been having to do a lot of thinking."

"About?" She sounded worried.

"Eater stuff," he replied. "But I don't want to think about it anymore—for tonight."

"Then let's take you mind off," she said, smiling a bit mischievously. Regulus knew that look. She straddled him and kissed his neck, his jaw. But he didn't let her for long. He turned the tables and luxuriated over her. He gave due attention to every inch of her skin, some inches more than others. He rolled her hard nipples around his palms, teased her inner thighs with his fingers, and nibbled on the sensitive skin behind and below her ears. Her breasts were tenderer than they usually were. It had been too long since he'd lavished attention upon them. He growled in response to her moans. He held and kissed her. And when he could reach down and feel her wetness, he angled and guided himself into her. She wrapped herself around him and let out short, sharp moans as their bodies reveled in their connection, then began to reach for what was further.

He felt her tremble, stiffen, and release with orgasm twice before he reached for his own. It had been at least three weeks or so since they had been this way together…he scolded himself for letting it go that long. This was too good to put off.

He felt her hot breath in his ear as she lay on his chest.

"I don't tell you how amazing you are nearly enough, my love," he whispered.

"You don't have to," she murmured. "I know how you feel just as you know how I do."

And he did.

"When I find my bones," she said, "I want you to make love to me again, Regulus."

His face stretched into a wide smile. The kind of smile only ever on his face in her presence. "Until the stars fall and lies become the truth, kitten," he answered. He felt her smile against his skin.

"You know, I'm a little embarrassed."

"Huh?" He turned to look at her.

She explained, grinning, "Dinah's around here somewhere."

Regulus laughed heartily and then rolled her onto her back.

…


	45. CHAPTER 45: NEWS

**Chapter 45: ****News**

…

"So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life."

-John Milton

…

"**Y**ou know how much I love you?"

Regulus was gazing at his wife from the couch in her apartment as she hung a new framed picture Grace had given her. She had turned to look at him when he spoke.

Before she could reply, he continued, "I love you more than I had ever imagined possible. I love you more every time I'm with you and every time you surprise me. The universe could cease to exist, but if you remained, so would I. You could draw me to every exposure and disgrace as well as any and every good. The symmetry of the world changed the moment I fell in love with you and utterly shifted my being. If I were a moon, I would orbit you. I love you more than any other person, object, idea, or element of this life, including myself. I love you more than I could possibly hope to get into words but so much that I am inspired to attempt to do so regardless.

"I love your laugh and your graciousness. I am in love with the way in which you see the world. I love the taste of your mouth and the way you walk. I love you dreams, your thoughts, even your worries. I'm who I am because of you. All the goodness in me you are entirely responsible for. I want you to know all this, Lenna. I want you to understand and remember it."

Her expression had become very stony, her eyes shiny with moisture. "Don't you dare."

"Don't you dare what? Tell you I love you?"

"Say anything to me that sounds anything like a goodbye."

Regulus took a breath and said nothing.

"I just want—" he began, then stopped. "I just want to tell you things, Lenna. No one ever even has a guarantee of even the next moment. No one. I want to have a chance to say things. Whether my time's up in sixty days or sixty years."

"Tell me in sixty years," she snapped. "Don't you dare start with it now."

He stood up rather suddenly. "That's not _fair_, Lenna! That's not kind! You'll regret it if something happens and you never listened—never allowed me to tell you my goodbyes! Every time I'm in danger, you know what goes through my mind?! _I might never get to say goodbye to her_. That's just gonna be it, no final words, no closure, no nothing! I would just leave you!" His voice broke. "Never being able to tell you how much you mean to me, how much every day we've been together has meant to me, how sorry I would be in eternity for leaving your side, how I would want you to never lose your passion for life or that way you see beauty in everything… How I wouldn't want you to waste away mourning me, but keep embracing every day as if it _were_ me."

Lenna was sobbing into her hands, sobbing harder than he'd seen her cry in a long time.

"Are you listening to me?" he cried. "Because this is important, dammit!"

She lifted her head and shot back, "All ears."

"I love you, Lenna."

Her tears continued to run.

"You know I'm doing everything I can to keep both of us safe. But we need this, Len. We'll regret it if we don't tell each other. Every single fucking day. Yeah?"

She wept and said nothing for a few moments. "I hate you," she finally replied through her tears.

He melted. He remembered when they had been seventeen…under the clock face…and he had said the same. He went to her and put his arms around her. He lifted her and took them both to the couch. She wept into his neck and he waited, holding her.

"I try and deny it," she whimpered after a while. "Because it's just…"

"I know," he soothed.

"I can't… It breaks me into pieces to even _think_…"

"I know."

They talked into the evening and night. Regulus felt as if a weight had been taken from him. Lenna fell deeply asleep in his arms that night. He had told her he had something to do the next evening, something very important. He hadn't mentioned how dangerous. Or that he'd made Calun the Secret Keeper of Lenna's apartment. Or that he'd double-checked on the secret will he'd left in Gringott's possession in reference to his private vault. His fear was less concerned with the task itself than with Lord Voldemort's retribution once the Horcrux was destroyed if he would be able to feel the loss.

If he could, things would suddenly become a hell of a lot more life-threatening.

But it had to be done.

…

Lenna woke him in the morning to kiss him goodbye before she left for work. Regulus tried his best to make her very late.

"Alright, what're we hushing up this week?" Lenna muttered as she closed the door of Janet's office behind her. Piles of parchment covered the large desk and letters from the owl post delivery zoomed down the chute and into a large tray on the far wall at a consistent rate.

Janet looked up and shook her head angrily, replying, "The disappearances of two more Ministry officials, the utter destruction of a small Muggle neighborhood in the suburb, torture of an Auror named Prospero, and the brutal murder of a Muggle Rights advocate in Birmingham."

"Oh, just all that," Lenna sighed, dropping into the seat in front of Janet's desk. Her tone was torn between angry and profoundly sad.

"If anyone was wondering if the Cruciatus could be performed with one's wand up the victim's asshole, I'd like to volunteer Mr. Anderson," Janet hissed. "I swear to God, Lenna, I'm going to quit."

"Don't," she sighed back. "Anti-propaganda writers are disappearing from the independent papers. In fact, the independent papers themselves are disappearing. It's too dangerous and we need you here. To help Matt and I do everything we can to help fight for the _Prophet_."

Janet ran a hand through her graying tangle of curly black hair. "I don't know how to fight for something that has become the enemy." She glanced at her watch and then made a hushing noise. "Now no more of this until later. Anderson always arrives at eight oh-seven. You have Friday's article ready for editing?"

Lenna pulled her article out of her case and handed it to Janet, who nodded and placed it carefully aside on a short stack of papers. "Alright, now…" She trailed off seeing the expression on Lenna's face. "Lenna? You alright?"

"I don't know…" she replied, massaging her stomach with a hand. "I…" Suddenly a swelling of nausea so fierce rose up in her that there was nothing for it but to turn in her chair and vomit right onto Janet's office floor.

"Oh Janet, I'm so sorry," she managed after the contents of her stomach had been emptied.

"Tosh, we have wands, do we not? It's not a problem…" She watched Lenna dry heave again and rubbed her back as she cleaned up the carpet. "Goodness, what is wrong with you?"

"I don't know, I don't know, it was so sudden…" She smiled a feeble thanks as Janet cleaned up her face with her wand. "I haven't been feeling sick at all or anything, I…" she trailed off, her face a picture of shock. "Oh."

"What?"

"Oh."

"_Lenna_. What is it?"

"Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin."

"_What_?" Janet snapped, sounding exasperated.

Lenna looked up at her, an odd, bewildered smile taking over her face. "Janet, I'm not sick. I haven't been paying attention and my last period…I…"

Understanding dawned on her boss' face. The same smile rose to her lips as well. "Oh, Lenna, honey."

"I have a—a Muggle pregnancy test stored away at home—do you think I could get it?"

"Go go go."

Lenna got back to her apartment as fast as she could and was relieved to find Regulus had already left. She wasn't ready to tell him just yet.

She knew what the result would be ever before she saw the pink plus sign. Her breasts had been tender for the past couple days. She tucked the test back into her case and went back to the office. Janet shrieked when she held out the evidence.

"I'm going to tell Regulus when he gets home tonight," she told Matt as they sat together opening mail at Lenna's desk a bit later. "And then we'll tell Grace and Cal. Cal will pretend to be so annoyed and gripe that I'm beating him to everything. But he'll have the biggest smile, Matt. Merlin. Oh, I'm breathless. I can't believe it. And I just got a kitten, ha. I thought that would be it for my responsibilities for a while!" She laughed, and looked so glowingly happy Matt had to laugh too.

…


	46. CHAPTER 46: RUSH OF FATE

**Chapter 46: ****Rush Of Fate**

…

**H**e could feel his pulse beating through his hand against the metal of the replacement locket squeezed in his fist. Folded up inside the family heirloom was a scrap of parchment on which he had written _To the Dark Lord—I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more._ It wasn't signed. That would be like putting a target on his head. In a sack over his shoulder he carried a few bottles of water. He didn't think he would need them but he felt better having them all the same.

Regulus shivered. He felt as if there was a stone in his belly. He was afraid, but ignored it. This task, this blow against Voldemort seemed what he was born to do. After it was accomplished he and Lenna would have to go into hiding, but some things were worth any sacrifice. Leveling the Dark Lord so that he could be killed like any man—it would give the world a fighting chance.

Kreacher came to him at half past seven as he had been ordered. He took Regulus to the seaside. The salt smell of the sea was sharp and unwelcoming. Spray lashed against the high rocks. Everything was dimming; the rocky shore was gray and the waves were even grayer. And the cave a dark hole.

Though shaking with dread, Kreacher repeated what he had done before and led his master to the great black lake. Upon seeing it, his trembling increased and he began to beg Regulus not to venture across it.

"_No, Master Regulus, no no_…"

"Kreacher, I promise that no matter what happens you will be safe. You will not drink the potion again. You will be able to escape the Inferi. It'll be alright."

"Master Regulus will drink the potion, Master Regulus will be sick, Master Regulus will be attacked…" he wailed.

"Master Regulus has a plan," he said firmly. "Now, Kreacher you must help me."

Kreacher still shook with fear, but said no more as he obediently raised the hidden boat and they set off slowly across the water. Regulus did not look down into the water, fearing that what he saw might rid him of what willpower he had.

They reached the island and Regulus studied the basin for a minute or so.

"Right, Kreacher," he finally said. "These are my orders. You will force all of this potion down my throat. Ignore me if I beg or even order you to stop. I won't be right in my mind. Then when it's all drunk I order you to swap the lockets." He held up the one in his hand to show him. "Don't you lose or let go of the other one, no matter what. When I ask for water, I want you to give me one of the bottles in my bag. Hopefully then I'll be in a state where I can give you the command to get us both back home. Kreacher, if worst comes to worst, my orders are simply that: take us both home. You can do it if I say those are my orders."

Kreacher nodded tremblingly.

"Alright." Regulus grimaced at the potion and the goblet set aside with which to drink it. "Cheers." He dipped the goblet in the basin, lifted it to his mouth and swallowed it all in one go. It felt like water as he drank but once it hit his throat and belly it was like drinking fire. Regulus clutched his stomach but continued to empty the first goblet. Fire licked at him from the inside, but the pain was not just in his body, but in his mind as well. Images flickered behind his eyelids—gruesome, frightening things. But his mind was still clear enough to go for another gobletful even though it was the last thing he wanted. He dipped it in and chugged the heinous potion down. He dropped the empty goblet in pain as the potion hit his stomach and he groaned as his knees hit the stone. There was a burning in his veins and he saw…he saw his worst fears dancing in front of his eyes.

"Ah…" he groaned.

"Master Regulus must still drink," Kreacher whimpered timidly.

Regulus gazed at him through his haze of agony and fear. "No…"

"Just a few more, Master Regulus," Kreacher soothed, dripping the goblet in the basin and holding it to Regulus' mouth. Regulus knew…he knew this was what needed to be done…

He drank it all again and cried out in pain: the Dark Lord was bursting in on Lenna, his wand glowing green…Cal, Grace, Sirius bloody on the floor…death coming for Regulus in every way possible—curses, Inferi, burning alive…

"Not Lenna, no, no, God, take me, leave her, please…KILL ME! LENNA, NO—SIRIUS—HELP ME…_help_…"

"Master Regulus, it'll be over if you finish it all! Master Regulus!"

"NO!" Regulus cried. "No more, please God—" He shoved Kreacher away from him. Kreacher's expression hardened.

"Kreacher has his orders," he said. "Master Regulus says to Kreacher he must drink all of it!"

Regulus attempted feebly to draw his wand but Kreacher held out his hands and locked his body in place, immobile. His eyes swam with tears. "Master Regulus said…he said Kreacher must make him drink it…" And he forced another gobletful down Regulus' throat.

The noise Regulus was making now became indecipherable. His eyes rolled with fear and agony. His arms spasmed and his head jerked to try and avoid the last goblet of potion but Kreacher forced it down him. Regulus gasped. His insides were still burning but the images were gone. His body felt so very weak.

Kreacher replaced the lockets quickly and clamped his small fist around the real one.

"_Water_," Regulus asked of Kreacher, barely able to sit up. "_Kreacher_…" He was going to die of dehydration. He could feel his parched mind swirling.

Kreacher dug into his sack and pulled out the bottle and unscrewed it for Regulus but when Regulus went to drink nothing came out. Desperately, Regulus broke the bottle magically and found it was as if the water had become plastic. It was undrinkable.

"_Aguamenti_!" he cried, pointing his wand at the stone, in the goblet, anywhere. Water came out but could not be picked up or turned to stone or grew stiff. Regulus began to feel his mind beginning to slip, felt the life draining out of him… He knew this was a curse, a spell, but could not undo or counter it in such a state.

There was nothing for it.

He would die if he didn't.

"Some water from the lake, Kreacher," he breathed hoarsely. "Or I'll die."

Kreacher did nothing, his eyes wide and petrified. "But Master—"

"_Now_."

Kreacher had no choice. He took the goblet, filled it with water, and then ran back to Regulus with it. After draining the goblet, Regulus' mind was clear again. And he could already see the lake stirring.

"Did you switch the lockets?" he asked.

Kreacher nodded, his bat ears wagging and the Horcrux clutched in his hand.

Regulus grasped his other arm. "Kreacher, I order you to take us both home."

Kreacher blinked. And suddenly his face was full of terror.

"I—I—I can't get out. Not with—with—"

"With a wizard," Regulus finished quietly.

Kreacher stared at him, quaking. "I tried, master, to do as you ordered—but it is impossible! It is—"

"I see that, Kreacher—it's alright," he replied in the same soft voice. He didn't know how he could be so calm. "We found a loophole, but a smaller one than I had assumed. I had thought your elf magic could override all of his enchantments…but it seems he's set up blocks against any witch or wizard leaving this cave magically…"

White bodies had begun to rise from the lake. With a yell, Regulus whipped his wand around his head and a high wall of fire flared up along the edge of the small island. The bodies shrank from it.

"This won't hold them for very long," he said quietly. He stared, his eyes glazing oddly toward the wall of fire he had erected.

Kreacher stared up at him, quaking from head to foot with terror.

"Master Regulus!" he cried.

Regulus snapped out of his paralysis and stared back down at the elf. He looked toward the basin as his eyes flickered at top speed, thinking quickly. Tears sprang from his eyes but he ignored them.

Quite without warning, he was staring down the end of his life. For all his words and preparations, inside he had truly believed it would not end so soon. He had believed he had had years ahead of him filled with holidays and sex and Lenna and Grace's cooking. He knew brokenness and empty agony would soon possess the woman he loved. And for that he was sorry with all his being.

But Regulus Arcturus Black had never been one to cower while fate rushed toward him. And for all the horror he had wrought, none of it had succeeded in damaging the core of him. He had righteousness and iron in his bones. Like the star for which he was named, his heart was a lion's and he heard that roar in his ears as he walked to the basin and twitched his wand above the fake locket resting there in the bottom. He murmured, "_To the Dark Lord—I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. –R.A.B_."

The writing in the note folded inside now read the same.

And his fire wall was being overcome. Regulus flung out his arm and erected two more, making the circle of safety around them smaller but frying Inferi in the process. He then conjured walls of glass, of wood, of electric blue wizard light. Still, hundreds were pushing toward the shore and he knew no magic he knew would save him. There was no going for the entrance. Even if he tried to bridge across the massing sea of dead, he wouldn't make it to the opposite end. Not with all the fire and magic in the world.

This was his sacrifice.

His prayer was simply that the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord would make it worth this.

He went back to Kreacher and knelt beside him. He put a hand on the elf's small shoulder and Kreacher's quaking was stilled.

"These are my new orders, Kreacher," he said firmly. "When the Inferi are almost upon us, you are ordered to go home without me."

"N—"

"Don't argue," he growled. "When you are back home, you are not to show yourself to the Dark Lord. He thinks you're dead. And you are not to tell Mother or Father or Mistress Bella or anyone what happened here. Tell them I stopped being a Death Eater and was killed for that. And Kreacher, this is very important. _You most destroy the locket_. Do you understand?"

Tears were streaming down the elf's face and dripping off his nose, but he nodded.

"And before you do any of that, Kreacher, I need you to go to Miss Lenna." The Inferi were breaking through the walls. Regulus didn't pause to look. "She lives in apartment 203 in Branburn Hills Apartments on Dewey Street."

Kreacher's attention shot behind Regulus at the crawling Inferi and Regulus exclaimed, "_Listen to me_! When you go to her, you must tell her what happened here and give her these" —Regulus took off his cloak and wedding ring and handed them to the elf along with his wand— "and you must tell her that I love her very much and I'm sorry but I had to do this to aid in the Dark Lord's defeat and—and—" Tears streamed down his face and obscured his vision. "And tell her to remember everything I told her, and—just tell her that I love her, Kreacher—tell her that I love her."

The dead were at their ankles. Regulus lifted Kreacher onto the basin swiftly before they were upon him and they were carrying him towards the water on the surf of hundreds of bodies. He struggled at first and then stopped. He stared back at Kreacher.

"NO! MASTER REGULUS!" Kreacher screamed from his perch on the basin. "MASTER REGULUS!"

Kreacher could not hear him, he only saw this mouth form the words, but before the white hands pulled Regulus Black beneath the black surface he ordered, "Master Regulus commands Kreacher to return home and do as he ordered."

As the magical pact between a master's words and house elf magic drew Kreacher away from the scene before him, he saw his master disappear as the basin began again to fill with potion of its own accord.

…

He was back in Master Regulus' bedroom with a _crack_ and fell to his knobby knees on the handsome wood floor. Gone…Master Regulus…Master…gone…dead…

Kreacher sat on the floor gasping and rocking himself, his master's things still clutched in his hands. He cried great silent tears. Of all his masters and mistresses, why was it Master Regulus who had to be gone? Why? Why couldn't he have saved both of them?

It had been his fault…his magic that wasn't able to get both of them out…

Kreacher felt like howling with misery but knew he couldn't alert his mistress to his distress, to what had happened… Oh, his poor mistress, how she will be devastated…her last son, her best son, her Regulus, no more… Kreacher stuffed his face in the rug to try and control himself.

He still had to do…what Master Regulus had commanded…

Kreacher took a great heaving breath. He couldn't remember the exact numbers of the girl's apartment but his magic took him there anyway. He had been ordered to go to her. Kreacher felt as if there was a very, very great weight on him. His news would bring misery to this girl, this girl who cared about his master. He would make her feel the agony he was feeling with his words. But there was nothing he could do. He had to. He'd been ordered.

His master had loved her. He had said so. Kreacher felt connected to his girl when he thought about that. He had loved Master Regulus, too. This girl had been important to Master Regulus and so she was important to Kreacher.

He didn't know how to do this. Didn't want to do this. Didn't know where to begin. Didn't know how to do it properly.

When he Apparated into her kitchen, she was talking on something she was holding up to her ear. Her eyes fell on the cloak, wand, and ring he was holding and his red, tear-stained face. She dropped the thing in her hand and it fell onto the tile with a clatter. The ground rose to meet her as she fell to her knees, her head in her hands, and she broke down into helpless, heartbreaking weeping.

…

_Leo faces many trials  
>But holds his head up high<br>He won't allow the hatred to  
>Make his spirit die<br>Leo looks up the moon  
>Sitting in its silver spoon<br>I'll be better, I'll be stronger  
>For the truth, I know takes longer<br>I've the cunning of the tiger and the  
>Wisdom of the trees<em>

_I'll release my anger  
>'Cause I'm kissing you<br>Pride can stand a thousand trials  
>The strong will never fall<br>But watching stars without you  
>My soul cries<em>

_Heaving heart is full of pain  
>Oh, oh, the aching<em>  
>-'I'm Kissing You', Des'ree<p>

…

The story will resume in _Beta Orionis_, its sequel.

…


End file.
